Watchful
by Faber122
Summary: Sanji, an aspiring chef, starts to volunteer in the Thousand Sunny Hospital for the Disabled. There, he meets a mysterious, traumatised young man with unusual green hair - Zoro, a blind patient. Sanji comes to grow fond of the irritable man, and gradually their feelings develop in to something much deeper. But the past will be back for Zoro, no matter where he goes.
1. Chapter 1

**Uhhh so this is the first time I've used Fanfiction...**

**So I'm slightly confused about how to use it...**

**ONE PIECE IS NOT MINE, CHARACTERS ARE NOT MINE~**

**ZoSan it is. Nothing explicit, I guess**

**And side note:**

**- The appearances of the characters will vary. As in some may be pre-timeskip, some after**

**- Italics used for flashbacks**

**^In case it's confusing, ehehe**

**There will be more chapters. Can't say if they will be updated regularly;;**

**Please do feel free to leave a comment, I'm not professional after all and would like to know how to improve my writing style~**

* * *

_His palms pressed against the cold, cobbled ground and pushed his body forwards. Dirt and gravel dug under his gnarled nails, sharp grits embedding themselves into the calloused skin as he crawled across the slippery land. Droplets of water pricked his scathed skin and head like needles of ice; running down his face, mixing with the salty tears. Teeth gritted, he reached out to feel for safety. Burning, burning; eyes and chest burning, haggard breaths escaping his throat as he forced himself ahead once again sightlessly._

_"Where... where am... I?"_

_Only darkness was around him. He was lost, he had nothing, he had no energy left. Dragging himself further from the sound of crashing waves for the last time, he choked and hissed in pain, laying his head down on the rutted surface under his cold, breathless body. He was here to live, yet he was already at the edge of death's gate._

_"My eyes... eye...s..."_

_Mind clouding over, he listened to the heavy, unstable pounding in his chest, the rough gasps squeezed out his throat. He was finally away from hell, but he knew he'd soon be brought back. _

_"Hey... hey, you're hurt..." A soft voice called through the pattering rain. Turning his head with the last of his energy, trying to see the source, a scalding hot tear trickled heavily out the corner of an agonising eye as he tried to pry them open. Still, everything was pitch-black._

_He sighed. The clacking of footsteps rapidly grew louder, and faded away as he let himself fall in to the depths of the darkness._

* * *

"Aww, come on Nami-swan~ Come tonight! I'm head chef. You wouldn't want to miss _my _cooking~"

"I said, for the _fourth _time, I can't! I'll come tomorrow night, OK Sanji?"

The blonde chef was swatted away by the girl he walked alongside, taking a perverted peep down her shirt as he straightened up. She huffed as she sauntered briskly along the road, trying to lose her lecherous friend. Nami was a popular student at her college; constantly being hunted down by men who were after her voluptuous body and playful grin. She'd go out with them for a week or so, then ditched them after turning them broke. But she just couldn't shake this _leech_, or rather her pervert of a friend, called Sanji off her ever since she met him a few years ago through their mutual friend Luffy.

Sanji Black wasn't infatuated with just her, Nami had noticed. He would turn his undying attention to any woman with an ample bosom and average face that crossed his line of vision. In contrast to this, he was unexpectedly an extremely gifted chef that worked night shifts at one of the top restaurants in their water-front city - the Baratie. If five Michelin Stars weren't enough, they had celebrities all around the world repeatedly returning just for the simplest dinner.

Flicking her coppery hair, Nami yelled at the chef to hurry in exasperation. He jogged up to her, grinning goofily as he fluttered his lashes, sea-blue eyes sparkling in joy from just hearing her call his name. "What a masochist..." Nami snorted as they neared the hospital.

It wasn't surprising for the man to be willing to work to help the less fortunate. Despite how he usually acted, he was dedicated, refusing to let anyone go hungry, making sure nothing was wasted. Kind. Generous. Just what was needed for a volunteer worker. He'd heard from his Nami-swan that the hospital for disabled where her friend worked was looking for a part-time chef to help with making morning and afternoon meals for their patients, and couldn't say no. Not to mention he would be able to see Nami more often.

* * *

The automatic glass doors slid nearly soundlessly as they stepped in. "Robin!" Nami squealed, running ahead with the brightest look Sanji had ever seen in her presence plastered on her face. Surprised, he looked up to see who Robin- His jaw slacked, eyes bulging. Standing before him with an excited Nami, was a stunningly beautiful _angel_. Tall and slender, she wore a pristine, white doctors' coat that draped over her curves, the smooth of her back. He watched enticed as she leant over to hug Nami, elegantly tucking strands of lustrous black hair behind a pale ear as she did so.

"Sanji, this is Robin, she's the psychologist here-" She was cut off as her friend shot past her in a blur of golden blonde locks and his azure suit shirt.

"Oh Robin-chwan~! To be in the company of a goddess as radiant as you, it is truly a pleasure!" He fell to a knee, gently taking and kissing a hand of the woman that stared down at him with an unreadable expression. Nami rolled her eyes and raised an arched brow helplessly at Robin as the man rambled on. What could she say, anyways?

"Ahem. Yes. Welcome to the Thousand Sunny Hospital, Sanji," Robin slipped her hand out of his grasp, smiling politely. "I assume you are the one that Nami tells me is interested in our job offer to cater for breakfast and lunch?"

"That's right, my dearest Robin! Please, do take care of me. I will not fail to satisfy the needs of the patients!"

"Wonderful. The Chairman has already accepted, so we'll start right away. I shall take you to the kitchen to meet the head chef then. Nami, would you like to come along?"

Shaking her head, Nami laughed cheerfully. "I'm going to go see our angry little friend. I'll see you in your office. Good luck, Sanji!" She turned and headed to the lift, waving to a girl in a wheelchair as she strolled by.

"Nami-swan is so admirable," the cook crooned, watching the red-head as they headed in the opposite direction. "If only she'd accept my love!"

Robin's forehead creased as she glanced at the chef in slight worry. Clearly he was a womaniser. Hopefully he wouldn't get distracted from his job.

"Sanji, meet our head chef Terracotta."

* * *

Pulling the trolley piled high with lunch boxes to a halt, Sanji knocked on a door. "Excuse me, lunch has arrived!" He sang, picking up a styrofoam box with the room number scrawled on top - 211. "I'm the new chef, Sanji. Hope you don't mind my intrusion!"

Unlike what he'd expected, a few of the chefs (now including him) were given the job to help deliver meals. Assigned to the first two floors, Sanji had made a ruckus out of having to do "manual labour, and I'm new too!", but was threatened to do the next two floors to go with it. Nevertheless, he made sure he did his job properly as each patient had a specifically assigned meal to suit their circumstances.

Sighing, he made his way to the last ward on the floor, right next to Robin's office. He beamed at the thought of seeing the gorgeous lady again, a drop of blood sliding out his flared nostrils. No! Ruffling his hair, he cursed himself as he wiped his nose with a tissue dangling off the edge of a lunchbox. He would only love Nami! She was his only one. Nothing would change that. Scuffling across the landing, he knocked on the last door, box already in hand - number 212. "Excuse me, lunch!" He cautiously opened the door.

The patient of this room was the strangest he'd seen so far. He was sitting in a chair with a large, opened book on his lap that had nothing on the pages; not a single word. Clothed in the creamy pale hospital attire, his lightly tanned skin was accentuated, muscular structure alert as if he was expecting Sanji. But the most striking things about this man was his choppy green hair that looked as if someone had ran their fingers through it a hundred times too many, and the thick bandages wrapped around his eyes that revealed only the ends of a vertical scar cutting through his left brow to his cheekbone.

"Who are you." The green-haired man demanded rather than questioned, his voice deep and threatening, causing Sanji to jump.

"Ah, I'm the new chef here!" He leant back to check the patient name card placed under each room number outside. His eyes widened as he read the plaque;

'Zoro - Visually Impaired'


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for your kind reviews; you don't know how happy you guys have made me for the whole day**

**But here's a terrible second chapter... /sobs at nastiness of own writing**

**Sorry sorry sorry! I feel like I've let you guys down ;_; But I swear the next will be better. By a mile. This is the boring bit.**

**I'm starting it now to make up for this this this THING. I'll finish it up tomorrow night!**

**Mm, yeah, swearing ahead. There's more dialogue in this chapter so it's not too amazing... forgive meee**

* * *

'Zoro - Visually Impaired'

There was no surname?

"Oi, don't fucking leave without answering. I asked _who _you were, not your _job_. Name."

Sanji bit his tongue, holding back the profanities that willed to tumble out his mouth. What an ungrateful, rude person. He took a deep breath, calming himself. "I'm called Sanji. It's... _nice..._ to meet you."

Zoro raised a brow and snorted, his mouth pressed in a judgemental scowl. "Put that on the bedside table, with the fork on the right." He cocked his head sharply in the direction of the bed.

"Alright." Walking over, Sanji chewed on his lower lip angrily as he placed the box on the table, fork on the right, as told. He knew it was undeniable that he had to follow along and do as this meathead said since he was a patient, but the blonde couldn't help but feel irritated with the man that was scraping at his nerves like the pesky label on the back of a cheap shirt. Zoro, or more suitably 'shitty moss brain', was now sliding a large, dry finger across the pages of the blank book. Confused, Sanji glanced over.

Little bumps covered the thick pages in obscure patterns somewhat like... tangrams, running across the sheet as if doing a dance.

"What do you want."

Blue eyes raised in surprise. Zoro was still sitting upright, facing forwards, finger gliding along the ridges of the lumps. 'My god, he's creepy...' Sanji thought, and opened his mouth.

"I said, what do you want." The patient growled.

"Well _sorry_, I was just interested in your book. I've left the food there, you prick-"

Sanji inhaled sharply. He didn't mean to let that slip. Did he?

Balling his hands in to fists, he pivoted on his heel and stalked back to the door, not knowing if he should apologise. It wasn't like he was the one to be rude first, wasn't he? Not his problem. Nothing to regret...

"Well then, _princess_. Get out already."

* * *

Zoro snickered quietly to himself as he heard the stiff snap of... dress shoes, he guessed, stop in its' tracks.

"WHAT? I was just leaving, you ungrateful bugger!"

"I know. I was hurrying you along so you could do your clothes shopping, princess."

He listened as the footsteps drew closer to him. The weight of the strides were balanced evenly in the balls of the foot from what he could tell, the same way a martial artist would hold their weight in a fighting stance. An experienced fighter, huh.

"At least I'm not the rude, mannerless one here, shitty moss-head."

Zoro smirked. This was a first, a volunteer that argued back. For as long as he could remember, almost every single one left without a sound, grinding their teeth as they seethed with anger. "Hah. At least _I'm _not the one who reeks of flowers and women's shampoo," he said mockingly "_Priss_."

"I'm going to leave now," Sanji said in a low voice, pulling back. "Before someone gets their head cracked open like a _watermelon_. Namely, you."

* * *

Marching out the door, Sanji suppressed the will to kick the wall down in to a satisfying rubble, trying to ignore the grumble of "What a joke," from the patient. How the hospital could stand having such an uncouth person staying within their grounds had him floored. He unclenched his hand and looked down at the indents his nails left in his palm from clamping them against the pink flesh too hard. What an ass.

'I'll go visit Robin-chwan to make myself feel better...' He thought to himself as he knocked on her office door, and opened it upon hearing her gentle voice call for him to enter.

It was a simple room, with a single desk engulfed in stacks of paper and laptop, a large purple sofa backed up against a wall. However, the wall across the room was lined and bursting with books. Old, browning books were arranged neatly on the left of the shelves, the rest being thick, unsullied volumes of encyclopaedias, editions of neurology, and... archeology?

Robin was sat in one of two sophisticated, plush armchairs by the window. "Please, do sit," She motioned for Sanji to take a seat, waving her slender fingers at the other armchair. Obediently doing so, he sighed and glimpsed apologetically at the woman, who crossed her legs delicately.

"So how do you find the job, Sanji?"

"It's interesting, meeting all the patients. I'm doing well!"

Robin nodded slowly, and gazed out the window. In interest, Sanji mirrored her actions. The view from the room spied the hospital lawn, chairs and tables set out on the edges. It was tranquil, the afternoon sun burning down on the grass as a few patients gathered to play cards. Grass. Like that moss-head. He flexed his jaw in annoyance at the memory.

"Do you know why the chefs are asked to visit the patients?" Robin asked quietly.

"Ah, to check on their eating habits? So they know what the patients need next?"

"Yes, those are some reasons." The psychologist averted her watch to him, her eyes reflecting a deep, Prussian-blue hue under the light, tinged with contemplation. "It's also to make them feel safe. To let them know that we care, that they aren't much different to everyone else. You've met Zoro, haven't you? Our friend next door,"

"... Yes."

"What do you think of him?"

"Forgive me for thinking this way, but I find him quite... spiteful." Not wanting to show the lady his brash side of thoughts, Sanji avoided her eyes, unsure of how to put his opinion in a polite way.

"I understand why you feel that way, Sanji," Robin murmured.

The blonde watched as she stood and walked over to the palisade of books, skimming a hand atop a row. "But forgive him for that. He's a good-natured person under that shell of anger he puts up. Zoro... is still distressed by his loss of sight. He wasn't born with it, you see. Please," She turned back to Sanji, a little smile playing across her lips despite the worry he could see in her eyes, the way she furrowed her thin brows. "Do get to know him. You could say he's like a son to me."

The cook tipped his head to a side and grinned reassuringly. "I'll do my best. Don't worry!"

"I know I can trust you,"

At the sound of the word "trust", Sanji felt his chest puff out on impulse. She had confidence in him! He smirked to himself.

"And isn't it about time you left for the Baratie?"

Robin giggled as he shot up.

"I'll see you tomorrow, my beautiful! Have a wonderful night!" Blowing a kiss, Sanji skidded out the door and ran to the lift, dragging the lunch trolley behind him.

"Don't forget, you just come in for lunch shift tomorrow since it's you're new, Sanji!" she called after him, receiving an enthusiastic cry of "Yes, Robin-chwan~!"

Chuckling, Robin closed the door behind him. Locked it. She glided over to the phone on the desk, and dialled in a number.

"Hello, Ace? Yes. Have you got the files?"

* * *

"So! How's the lunch?"

Sanji was back in the dreaded Ward 212 the next day, standing by the green-haired patient, burbling in a forcedly buoyant voice, watching him finish eating at a carnivorous speed, regardless of his inability to see.

Yesterday, he'd thought extensively about the conversation he'd had with Robin, and had vowed he'd try to be more agreeable. However, the way Zoro was completely ignoring his questions and genuine attempts to strike a conversation was really pulling his strings.

"Hey, come on, answer me!" He said as light-heartedly as he could through bared teeth. "It was good wasn't it? I helped make it, after all."

"Shut up."

Just, pretend you heard nothing, ignore it, remember Usopp said he was cool... The fuck, it was probably one of his dopey lies again... "Come again? Best thing you ever tasted right?" The cook laughed shakily.

"Shut up!" Zoro yelled.

"Like hell I will! I'm trying to be nice, you could've _at least_ said that politely!" Sanji hollered back. He couldn't believe it. This guy was even ruder than the day before.

"I just did, princess. Stop being such a pain and leave already."

"In what holy way was that anywhere near polite? And why should I? It's a free country, I don't have to listen to you, bastard!"

"I don't want your fucking PITY!" Zoro snapped, crushing the lunch box closed and dropping it in the bin beside the little window seat where he sat. "And you're just bothering everyone, so just go!"

Sanji reeled back.

He hadn't thought of it that way. His whole life he'd willingly been friends with everyone he'd met. Was he doing this out of pity, because Robin had told him to try understand him? Because he wanted to please _others_?

"So it _is _pity," Zoro hissed, gripping the hem of his shirt agitatedly, aware of the volunteer's lack of comebacks. "I don't need it, so get out."

"It's not. I'm trying to make a truce." The blonde glared at him warily, unsure; at least he felt that was what he was doing.

"Don't fucking lie. I can tell."

"I AM NOT!"

Grabbing the collar of Zoro's shirt, Sanji yank him up so he came eye to eye, or more precisely eye to bandages, infuriated. Blood boiling, he could only follow what his instincts were telling him to as his head pounded. It wasn't possible he'd do anything for this bastard out of pity. He wasn't a degrading person. Never. Why could he not think of a reason to answer back with then? "Don't just ASSUME you're right, you conceited jerk!"

With a rough shove, the patient forced Sanji off. He raised a green brow derisively. "You see? You're using violence now, because you know it's true. 'Cause you can't get me to believe you, huh? I'm not stupid, you shitty cook-"

"ZOROOOOOO!"

A lanky body flew from the door to where Zoro was, latching itself to his arm. Feeling tufts of short hair rubbed against against his neck, the blind man shook the weight off in alarm.

"For god's sake, Luffy?"

"What the hell are you doing here Luffy? Get off that demon!"

The young boy had his mouth open in an excited smile as he studied the two previously arguing men. "I'm visiting Zoro! I like helping here! Are you guys friends? Awesome!"

"No we aren't." Zoro grunted, and plopped back down by the window.

"Are you enemies?"

"Yes."

"No!"

Sanji glared, wishing daggers would fall from the sky and pierce through the thick glass, into the blind man nonchalantly picking at his shirt. Luffy frowned thoughtfully, and pulled Sanji close to whisper in his ear.

"So you're being a bully to Zoro?"

"Dammit, Luffy, I'm not!"

"Why is he so angry?"

"You could've asked that instead of asking if we were friends."

The smaller boy pursed his lips amusingly, and focused on his grumpy companion. "Zoro's a nice fella," He said in a hushed tone. It was quite the contrast to his typical, obnoxiously loud voice. "He''s really insulting sometimes! But really!"

"So I've heard."

To be told for the second time to treat that brute better was causing the taller man to have the urge to break everything in sight. For a second, the thought of implanting his foot in to Luffy's face was a pleasing idea.

"He just doesn't trust you yet. When you get to know him better, he's a great dude. You gotta give him a chance."

"Trust," the cook scoffed. "Well. I'm going now."

"Promise you'll do as I say!"

"Sure, sure, promise."

"I'm not deaf, you know."

Sanji lobbed a rude face at Zoro at the retort and departed, exasperated. How would he get such a brute to trust him? It was impossible. He shouldn't even bother. The image of Zoro arguing back at him crossed his mind as he entered the lift. There was an aura to this man that drew interest in him. For starters, what was there in strangers for him to be cautious about?


	3. Chapter 3

**Asdfgkldfasklnv thank you guys for the lovely new reviews, for the follows, favourites, and views! **

**I feel so encouraged to do more... so here's the third chapter of ****_Watchful_**** /throws petals**

**Here's another note on italics: I've chosen to use them for dreams and such too, sorry if it's bothersome~**

* * *

_Darkness rippled around his feet as yet another figure fell. He gripped the smooth, patterned hilt of the last sword he still had, air pressed out his exhausted lungs, puffs of silver taking flight from his parted, split lips. His mind told him nothing, yet he felt as if there was another body within his own; shaking, shuddering, rattling his ribs like an encaged animal crying for help._

_ Wisps of inky smoke gyrated, twisted around the scene under the moonless sky, stroking the skin of his blistered arms. Setting it on fire._

_"Stop..."_

_ His knees buckled under him. Crashing to the ground, his breathes hitched, heart thudding dully in his ears. Pulsing. He clutched his chest with his hands, dropping his weapon with an echoing clatter. Pupils dilated, he clawed at the ground. Pressed his head against his upper arms. The ground. It's wet. Warm. The scent of steel filled his nose, up into his head as he raised his hands to his face. Red stains, thick, tarnishing the skin as the fire spread across them._

_ Hoisting himself up, he squinted in anguish around him. The smoke was encompassing each surface it could reach. Rolling towards him. Faster, faster..._

_"STOP!"_

_ ... Piercing his eyes. _

_"AAAAGGHHH- GHH-"_

_ Pressing his fingers against his face, trying to cease the pain. The liquid trickled down, through his lashes, withering his vision as it scalded away. _

_ With a scream, all that was left to see was black._

* * *

"GOD... NO, NO! AAAAAGGHH!"

Jerking up, Zoro let a cry tear out his throat. Where... Where? Where was he? Tremors surged through his frame, clasping his clammy hands on the icy material that was almost locking him down. Why couldn't he see anything? Calm down, calm down, calm down. He steadied his breath, lifted a quivering hand to his face. A cloth, covering his eyes. That must be it. If he'd just take them off...

Tearing the flimsy textile from his skull, he tried to draw back his eyelids to see, to reassure he was awake. To let himself know he was still alive.

Why was it so difficult?! He choked back a whimper, and eased his muscles to open his eyes. Open a slit.

Freezing air slithered through the gap, straight to the back of his head. "Hahhh-" Zoro choked, letting the lid fall closed again. Back in to the dark. Eyes... where were they?!

He traced his hands along his face, sweat forming on his smooth forehead. The same cheeks, the same nose, the same dry mouth, the same shaking chin... no swell of his eyeballs. Empty. His mind throbbed, only hearing the thumps of his fervent heart. Fear.

"Shit... Shit-!"

He fumbled with the warm fabric covering him in alarm. What was he doing here? He was in a bed wasn't he? Was he _there _again? Was healone? Throwing the mass off him, he turned and tried to slide off the bed. Insecure on his unstable feet, he toppled forwards, reaching a hand out to catch his descending weight. He could see nothing, not even the unwelcoming, slick floor he fell, hard, on to.

Muscles convulsing from the shock, Zoro raked his fingers down his face. He didn't care what would happen to his eyes now. They were gone. Why? Why?

"WHERE ARE THEY?"

He propped himself on to his knees.

"LET ME OUT! WHERE... WHERE... FUCK!"

"Zoro!"

A perturbed voice called out. A woman.

"WHO ARE YOU? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY EYES? MY- MY SWORDS-!"

"Zoro, Zoro! It's me, Robin! It's alright, you're okay, you're safe..."

He felt slim arms wrap around him, under his own, lifting him to his feet, gently setting him back on the bed. This voice... He knew it... Trusted it...

"Robin..."

"Yes. It's Robin, so you can relax. Doctor! I need new bandages for Ward 212!"

"Ward... Yeah... I'm at the hospital..."

"That's right," A hand rubbed his back soothingly. "You're under our protection. Was it another nightmare?"

"Mm."

"It's ok, you don't have to tell me about it now."

"Robin."

"Yes?"

"What time is it?"

"Just past 6:50AM."

He thought for a while, pressing his knees with his wrists.

"Training," he mumbled.

"Let's go."

* * *

Sanji stared blankly around the room, a hand rested on the bar of the lunch trolley. It was, actually, morning. It seemed last night, an unusually furious Ms Terracotta had fired one of the chefs that was to lead the morning courses for dropping her prize pork worth one thousand Beri, and so Sanji definitely had to arrive early in the morning to take their place. Not like he wasn't going to go.

The room 212 had no one in it. His heart paced faster. Running to the window, he scanned the hospital lawn. No one. Everyone was in their rooms, having a hearty breakfast as they should. Except Zoro.

He shook his head in a fluster. Nah, he didn't care! It's just one big, missing oaf. Closing the door behind him as he walked out, he clicked his fingers in thought. Did he... kick the bucket? What, no bother.

Knocking on Robin's door, he trilled "Robin-chwan~ Breakfast delivery from the one and only _moi~_"

No answer.

Rapped the door firmly for the second time.

"Robin-chwan?"

Moss-head had vanished. Robin had vanished. Sanji gripped the bar of the trolley. It's unlikely that bastard did something to his beautiful Robin-chwan. But if-

"Erm, San... ji?"

Turning in response, the man looked around. There was no one there. Feeling a gentle tug on the hem of his shirt, he glimpsed down. A small teenager with dishevelled, sandy brown hair in a doctor's coat stood there, clipboard in one hand and his other still pulling the shirt.

"Miss Robin is out. She'll be back for lunch, in case you're wondering."

"I see. Uh, what about that fucker- I mean, Zoro?"

"He's with Miss Robin," he replied, disregarding Sanji's blurt with a cough small like his height. "They leave early most mornings, to do training."

"Thanks," The blonde flicked his eyes over the name tag. "Chopper?"

"Mmhm!" Chopper smiled cutely. Sanji wobbled at the innocence of the smile. It took every bone in his body to stop him reaching out to pinch the boy's cheeks, granny style. "Um, would you like to, uh, meet a few patients with me? I- I mean, since you're done with breakfast, right?"

"Of course! It's good to make new friends. Just let me send this huge thing back to the kitchen."

"I'll take you to meet Kaya first then! She knows Usopp. I heard about you through him!"

Taking the bulky trolley with them, the blonde watched the boy hurry ahead.

"By the way, Chopper, aren't you a bit too old to be playing doctors?"

"I _am _a doctor!"

* * *

1AM.

Reunited with his _favourite _trolley, Sanji made his routine rounds to each ward. "Hello, lunch is served~!"

He was starting to become close friends with those he visited, even the deaf children and the lonely old man who hung around the reception, looking out the window as if expecting someone. It was just that - What was the japanese name for it? Ah, marimo - That damned marimo who refused to budge his crabby ass.

"Hey, shitty-marimo. Lunch."

* * *

Like a finely chiselled statue on the floor beside his bed, Zoro sat cross-legged. Meditating, shoulders relaxed, crisp new bandages around his eyes. Sunlight shone softly through the window beside the man, illuminating half his hard, strong face, his well built form so his skin tinged gold.

Sanji observed silently, captivated, sucked in to the calmness. The atmosphere surrounding him was tranquil, still, in a trance, as though every air molecule in the room had stopped moving. As though time had stopped, only the dust glimmering under the afternoon glow; wafting, in motion. The green-haired man's lips moved as he watched.

"Table, by the bed. Fork on the right."

"If you say please."

"Say it yourself, princess."

"For the love of- Why can't you stop being so rude, you ass?!"

"Problem? Leave."

"I do as I want, o uncivilised jerk." Sanji countered, heavily dumping the styrofoam box on the table, fork on the... left. He smirked.

"Oi, you. Fork on the right. Can't hear me, priss?"

The chef ogled the patient. How the hell did he know?

"I heard you alright. Priss my _ass_, you bastard!"

"You're loud."

"I swear I'm going to beat you to a pulp." He hissed, slamming the fork to the right.

"I'd like to see you try." Zoro scoffed insouciantly, an ear twitching as he heard the snap of the fork making contact with the thick, wooden table. Hah! Like the freaking princess. Thick as a dozen short planks.

"I'm a _gentleman_, so I won't."

"Should I remind you about yesterday then?"

"FUCK OFF, GET OVER IT!"

"Come on then, even a girl like you ought to be able to throw a flimsy little punch," Zoro mocked, only his tanned lips moving as he stayed in his rooted position on the floor.

In all honesty, Sanji had wanted to smash his face from wall to wall since they first met. But he was to be respectful. He wouldn't do that to a patient.

"No."

As if having read his mind, he watched as Zoro's eyebrows furrow in fury, uniform teeth bared and shut too tightly. "It's because I'm blind, isn't it."

"..."

"Just because I am doesn't make me fucking INCAPABLE. It doesn't make me WEAK." the angered man spat darkly, rising to his feet. "Try hit me, _bitch_."

"Did you just call me a BITCH?!" Sanji screamed.

"SO WHAT."

Zoro threw his arms up in a block just as he heard a space-ripping rush hurtle towards him to his right shoulder. It made impact to his forearms, his tensed muscles feeling, memorising the magnitude of the force as he staggered in the opposite direction it came from. A foot, clad in a particularly resistant shoe.

Gripping the ankle with an iron grip above where he felt the shoe, he twisted the leg away from himself, pulling it away from the other's body. Sensing the buzz of tension coming from his attacker nearing as he hauled leg and weight with his right hand, he spread his sturdy legs in to a steadier stance, and thrust his left elbow in a jab at where he predicted the chest to be, from the weight.

Sanji rasped for air as the green-haired man's elbow collided with his sternum, just narrowly evading his throat. Twisting his hip as he felt the sharp pain, he flung his right leg up, feeling the kick successfully strike the man's side. He fell backwards, but reached his palms out, pushing himself away from the floor in a well executed flip. Landing on both feet, knees bent to absorb the shock, he coughed as he subconsciously raised a hand to his throat. "Fuck," Wheezing slightly, he rubbed his chest. "Not bad, Marimo."

Zoro rolled his shoulders flexibly, a hand pressed somewhat protectively where Sanji had landed his hit. "You kicked," he commented. "I thought I said punch."

"Doesn't make a difference does it?"

* * *

The blind man had never felt so alive in the last few years. This chef was strong. His arms and waist throbbed where they took the kick, yet his muscles felt as though they were sparking with energy. A worthy opponent.

"What martial art is it?"

"Oh, _asking _now?"

"Shitty cook."

"It's a mixture. I learned different styles and combined them. Capoeira, Savate, Taekwondo... You name it."

"They're... all foot fighting styles."

"Yeah. I don't use my hands. They're for cooking for the enchanting ladies~"

"A fucking bitch _and _a womaniser. Repulsive."

"Hey, shut it. Don't you know how delicate and important women are? What about you then? Where'd you learn your shit?"

Zoro bit his lip. The pause hung in the air densely. Sanji arched a brow expectantly. Why did he need to _think? _

"I learnt kendo. And some others. At my village."

"Your village... Where's that, Marimo-land?"

"..."

"...Hey."

Zoro turned away, extending a hand to feel where the window seat was. Not answering.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Sanji blinked at how genuinely concerned his own voice sounded. The patient had suddenly clammed up, and he felt worried. What to do, what to do... He'd grown little buds of respect for the man after seeing him fight, _feeling _him fight. Around Zoro, with that power, he felt ecstatic. Like he could live off that drive they produced and fell a thousand men in one go. He didn't want to lose grip of the mutual feeling now that he'd grasped it.

"Zoro..." Said man ignored him. Instead, he slowly sat at the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, basked in the secure warmth of the sunlight. So contorted with sadness was his expression, Sanji couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart.

What had he done?

"I-I'll... go, then... Don't forget the food..."

Looking over his shoulder at Zoro a last time as he left, Sanji sighed.

Lost his chance.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys~ Here's chapter 4**

**I'm so delighted, reading the new reviews and seeing new follows literally had me tearing up.**

**I'm such a sap, gahh**

**Yet another thank you for you angels.**

**Holidays have just ended, so I've got a lot of work coming for me... and less time to write ):**

**That means updates will be slower from here on... my deepest apologies!**

* * *

Tapping a stilettoed foot impatiently, Nami closed her eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling vehemently through her nose. This was a normal occurrence; to have to wait for that rambunctious idiot over fifteen minutes past their meeting time. 'Next time, I really ought to tell him to meet me half an hour earlier than I really want to' She thought in aggravation.

The redhead leant back, pressing her shoulder blades against the concrete wall of the library behind her. It was refreshingly cool against her creamy skin. Scanning the area briefly, she rubbed her wrist gently and settled to watch an old man selling dried octopus in a push-along cart to chattering children on their way to school.

"NAMIIIIIIIIII!"

She couldn't help but grin happily at the sound of the voice. Urgh, be serious! He needs to be taught a lesson! Slapping her cheeks, she put on her no-nonsense face and turned to face the raven haired boy running towards her.

"Hiya! Hey hey, did you see that-"

"WHY ARE YOU LATE?!" She barked, smacking the other upside his head violently.

Luffy rubbed a hand on the back of his head, pouting as innocently as he could at the taller Nami. "I saw a new meat shop!" He whined.

She sighed. "You're always late when we go out. I should just leave you already."

"Nooo! Namiii~ I'm here now, I won't do it again! Let's go go go!" Luffy took the girl's hand, lacing his fingers between hers as he proceeded to tug her away from the library.

Cheeks touched with rosy pink, Nami smiled again. Tightened her hold on his hand lovingly. What did she see in him? He wasn't rich, nor was he the most intelligent boy on the block. But he was warm and would never leave anyone behind. Even her, who tried to cheat him in to giving half his _life's savings _to her. He'd changed everyone he'd met, for the better. Especially her.

"The amusement park's the other way, Luffy."

* * *

Sanji gripped the bark of the tree he hid behind, so stiffly that needles of wood flew in all directions as he shattered the timber. Shit. Shit.

Shit.

He watched as the young couple walked away, one skipping and the other ranting. So Nami was with Luffy. _With _Luffy. No wonder she ignored all of his not so subtle advances.

He turned away. He felt as if someone had reached out, ripped his heart out his burdened chest and thrown it on the cold, tiled floor in right in front of his eyes. Stomped on it. Gave it an extra kick while they were at it. Only now did he realise how much he cared about Nami.

Though she was known to be the "thieving witch" of the city, he saw the tender side of her. She was more capable of sympathy than what those she duped thought. So he gave her what she wanted. Offered more. Did it not satisfy her? Was there something his own friend, Luffy, had more of than him?

Feeling as if the world had laid all their pain on his agonised back, he sloped away, to the Thousand Sunny hospital to prepare breakfast. Served and seasoned with his own salty tears.

* * *

Those balanced footsteps tapped closer to his room. Sitting up from the bed, ears alert, Zoro deduced the weight, rhythm of the person approaching. Sanji. He was instantly reminded of the day before. He never meant to ignore the man. His village...

_ Images of a petite cottage snuggled within flaxen grain fields of gold painted itself in his mind. Flashed with white. Dyed in carmine._

He shuddered. Felt guilty for being unable to tell Sanji why he refused to talk although he loathed him. Maybe he'd just pretend it never happened.

Sanji's steps seemed off today. It wasn't light and sharp. Sluggish, like he was dragging steel weights tied to his ankles, rather. He frowned. Was the cook carrying something heavy?

They stopped. A hollow knock on the door, followed by the creak of it opening. The steps again, much louder. "Uh... breakfast."

"No insults today, princess?"

"Alright, weed-head. Satisfied? I'm not in the mood for this now."

So he was irritable today. The corners of Zoro's mouth curled devilishly. He was coming to like teasing the man, even if it meant more insults of moss and greenery coming for him.

"What a priss." He listened to the familiar sound of squeaking styrofoam pressed dutifully on the bedside table next to him. And of course, fork on the right. Reaching a hand out, he traced the edge of the table with the heart of his palm, other fingers spread across the smooth top as he slid his hand along. His index nail felt the soft pressure of the box as he brushed past it, the cheap plastic creating a high pitched squeal. He leant to it, picked it up, thumb stroking the tab as he popped it open.

The fresh scent of egg, rice and tomato wafted in to his nose seductively. His stomach rumbled in pleasure as he picked up the abandoned fork. It was slippery, a little curve in the handle that allowed it to rest comfortably on the swell of his thumb.

Zoro preferred having the fork placed on the right for him rather than letting the chefs do as they pleased. Many times, with the previous ones that delivered his lunch, he'd not told them to leave the fork to the right and had nearly pierced his hands in to swiss cheese trying to open the box without knowing the fork was actually on top.

Carefully pressing the fork in to the soft sustenance and lifting a piece, he bent down, meeting his lips with the warm egg to confirm his thoughts: omelettes and rice. His mouth closed around the food, flavour tangy on his lithe tongue as he chewed. It was moist, salty sweetness in rolling textures- he could taste mushroom too.

"How is it?"

"Average." Zoro lied, not wanting to give the chef the pleasure of praise as he continued to stuff his cheeks full.

"What do you mean, _average? _I made the sauce out of the finest San Marzano tomatoes from _Italy _that I bought personally! They're considered the best paste tomatoes in the world. Not that a marimo with a cabbage brain like you would understand their value." Sanji fought back in an offended tone.

"Only you would care about that. It's just a tomato. Gonna end up in our stomachs and out our asses as shit either way..."

"You vulgar creature."

"...Which comes to the conclusion that your cooking I'm eating now is shit."

"WHAT?! You take that back right now, you unappreciative fuck. Right. Now." The sound of teeth grinding harshly followed the threat.

"Make me, bitch."

"Are you picking a fight again since your brain is too pea-sized to function otherwise?"

"OH, A FIGHT IT IS."

"BRING IT."

Leaping to his feet, Zoro practically threw the meal down and pointed to the door. "Out."

"WATCH THE FUCKING FOOD-" Sanji bit his tongue. Shit, wrong thing to say. Good job, Sanji, telling a blind man to _watch _the food. He knew from Robin that Zoro was sensitive about his eyes...

"Can't," The green haired man said in a low voice. He tapped his bandages where his temples were. "_You _see, princess? Out the back door of the hospital. No one goes there." He swept past, large fingers glazing over the walls as he lead the way.

Dumbfounded, Sanji followed, down the stairs ("Oi, that's dangerous-" he started. Zoro, who paid no attention, literally glided down the stairs with ease like a well oiled machine to much amazement, admiration and fear that he'd trip and fall face first), round to the more secluded side of the hospital.

* * *

"You think you're the boss don'tcha, fucker? I said before I'm not a _princess_."

Sanji glowered as he was nudged forwards to a 'Do not open' door. Sourly, he opened the door. Behind it was a poky little scrapyard-esque space, fenced off from the outside world with wire barriers towering at least 10 feet high in a menacing fashion. A knee-high cardboard box with random letters printed in red on a side was left to rot in a corner. Zoro stalked in front of him, hands in the pockets of the white hospital pants. He was starting to let off the air of a predator encircling it's next prey, Sanji thought instinctively.

Suddenly, the world surged forwards as Sanji felt his body be thrusted back, his spine crashing in to gravelly brick wall of the hospital, a strong hand clasped around his slender throat savagely, pinning him down. His eyes widened. Choking as he struggled, pulling at the hand in a futile attempt to release himself, he could feel his trachea being crushed. He watched in panic as the patient drew back a fist, winding up for a solid punch. Adrenaline flooded in. Right leg pulled in tight to his body as he twisted his hips 90 degrees, he thrust his foot out, aiming for the other's stomach.

Zoro jumped, knees tucked to his chest, evading the kick. Letting go of Sanji's neck. The blonde let out a gasp of relief, pressing a hand behind him as his knees weakened. Raised his left leg high above his head as Zoro started to fall from his jump. Swung it down like a sledgehammer on the shoulder of the man in a death blow just as his feet barely swiped the floor.

* * *

Pain shot through his shoulder as he felt the foot connect, pressure so powerful it was as if the earth's gravitational force had doubled, tripled, quadrupled, centupled to a hundred times. Jaw tightened, Zoro felt the cold ground strike his chest, then chin and knees - a wave reaction like a violent ripple spreading across a still pond. Catching his breath, he got up, rocking on the balls of his feet, and patted his clobbered shoulder, hiding the throbbing agony. Smirked. The hum of tension, strength and bloodthirst ripped through the atmosphere around the two men.

"That all you've got, princess?"

Rustling movement. Zoro concentrated, tracing the patter of running behind his back. The tear of wind against speed shot at him again - a hook, he presumed from the sound of the air current - and whistled towards his head. He dropped to the ground, arms set in a push-up position, one foot rooted below and close to his body. With the other sweeping across the floor behind him in a crescent, he knocked the chef down as he rolled aside to the left, finally balling his corresponding hand in a fist, drilling a punch in to the small of Sanji's back as he crashed down beside him.

* * *

Quickly, the green-haired man felt along the ground until he found the other's hand. Shoving it under a knee to hold him down, he exhaled heavily. Sanji was similarly letting out wizened little breaths.

Pant, pant. "Not the hand, fucking marimo!"

"Had enough?"

"I could go on for longer. Anytime. But you've got your filthy knee on my hand."

"_Suuure_."

"Fuck off, I don't want you soiling my cooking hand."

"... Fine."

Sanji watched as Zoro removed his knee quite delicately. Like he actually cared. Wiggling his fingers, the chef sighed in relief and examined his palms. Milky pale as usual, just a small scratch on the side.

The fight felt almost therapeutic. To let off steam in such a fiery clash was like he was beating the sadness out of him. Getting the regret knocked out of him. He needn't think of anything but his movements, Zoro's movements. Freeing him. Even watching the blind man fight was, what, refreshing? He had not a single wasted movement, fluid as a river. Truly an admirable fighter.

A hand was offered in front of him. Sanji looked up a tanned, muscular arm. The hell? Zoro was actually being _nice_.

"Tch." He grabbed it, and pulled himself up. Might as well make use of the kindness now, before it vanished. The hand was large and rough as he expected. But it was warm, soothingly warm, not like a burning kettle kind of warm but much more gentle...

Ugh. He'd just called that ogre _gentle_. He withdraw his hand sharply.

"Hey, moss head."

"What."

"You don't seem rusty at all. You been practicing?"

The patient scratched his head above his bandaged eyes mindlessly. "Well I go training a few mornings a week."

"In the _hospital?_"

"Don't sound like such a snob, princess. No, Robin takes me to a good place."

So that's where they went last time. "Where?"

"Hmm. Nowhere."

"Asshole."

"... I practice with swords."

Sanji gawked. A blind man with swords? Privately, he swore to himself he'd never get near a Zoro with swords. God knew if he'd be sliced in to strips of bacon if that man didn't know what he was doing.

"Oh really."

"I'm fucking serious, bitch."

Sanji rolled his eyes, and walked to the hospital's back door where they had entered. "Alright, marimo. Let's go back."

* * *

"Now that I think about it, what's with that book I've seen you with before? You know, the one with bumpy things...?"

Sanji leaned against the room wall, watching as the blind man wandered to his usual place by the window. Zoro reached down, tapping around the seat area until his hands touched the creaseless, thick book. He picked it up.

"You mean this?"

"Well what other book is there in here?"

"Bastard. This," He opened the book to a random page. The little bumps and indents were there, scattered across the page like confectionary sugar sprinkles. Zoro ran a finger around them. "Is braille."

"Uh."

"It's a writing system. Each arrangement of 'bumpy things' represents a letter or number. Alphabet. So I read with my fingers now."

"Ah, I see. Braille."

"So you've never heard of it? Hah! You're not as smart as you act, _stupid_."

"WELL YOU PROBABLY DON'T KNOW WHAT A JOLOKIA IS."

"..."

"YOU SEE? It's the world's hottest chilli, for your information."

"THAT'S NOT EVEN AN ENGLISH WORD!"

"BRAILLE ISN'T AN ENGLISH LANGUAGE!"

"OF COURSE IT IS! ARE YOU-..."

"... HAH! SO I WAS RIGHT!"

"No, it fucking is. There's different braille alphabets for different languages. Now shut it, I think I hear Chopper coming."

Silence.

"I don't hear anything."

"Of course you don't. Since I can't see, I trained my other senses to their peak conditions. That's why I can fight better than you."

"You damned-"

"Hi Zoro! I gotta run a check up. Oh, hi Sanji! Visiting Zoro?"

The young doctor had opened the door and stuck his fluffy little head in, making him look like a head growing out the door. Like fungus.

"Oh my god Zoro, it really is Chopper!"

"I told you."

"What about me? Are you gossiping about me? Did I do something bad?!" Big hazel eyes wobbled in sadness. "I'm so sorry!"

"No, he was just saying how he could hear you walking to his room. Don't worry lil' guy, I'll kick Zoro's ass if he ever _does _say mean things about you, you cute thing!" Sanji smiled, ruffling Chopper's hair. The boy blushed and slapped his hand away feebly. "No! I'm not cute, dammit!"

"What do you mean, 'kick Zoro's ass'." The patient growled. "Looking for another round?"

"What are you going to do? I gotta do a check up!"

"Yeah, listen to your doctor, meathead."

"Go bury your face in chillies, princess."

Sanji sniggered, and turned back to Chopper. "Do you know that Zoro can tell when you're coming?"

The boy nodded and stepped in. Flipping through the papers on his clipboard he carried around, he flashed Sanji a glimpse of some complicated graphs. "We sometimes run tests to see how patients are doing and developing. Zoro's results are most impressive - he's trained his senses and reflexes to an incredible level, higher what an average human can do. He told me that he can tell who a person is from their steps from the amplitude, balance of weight and pattern of footwork! Isn't that awesome?"

Sanji laughed, Chopper's excitement over medical achievements were just too adorable. "Yeah. Go do your check up man. Be good, moss-head. Back to cooking for me. Bye!" He waved, and left, leaving the young doctor to do his examination.

* * *

Just as he was halfway down the corridor, a furious yell rang through the hall. "WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO YOUR SHOULDER?!"

The blonde grinned in satisfaction. He stretched lazily, extending his hands above his head, twisting left and right flexibly.

Clack!

His back cracked.

That bloody marimo.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys~**

**It's been a sufferable week not being able to write /sobs**

**I feel as though I'm not delving in to the depths of the characters deep enough, so here is Chapter 5, cleaned and with thought.**

**I can't thank you guys enough for everything. Your comments keep me going like clockwork.**

* * *

Zoro gently nuzzled his shoulder against the chill surface of the glass. Not once had he wished he'd one day be able to see the opposite side of this barrier that kept him in possession of the hospital. No, he wanted to see further than just outside. He wanted to be able to run without having to dwell on anything that may get in his way. He wanted to be able to write, the watch the ink on his brush gripped between strong fingers blur ever so slightly as characters formed. He wanted to find those he left behind... and those he sought.

His skin tingled, a mute buzz on his palm, reminding him of the patterned hilt of his swords he had held just over an hour ago. Practicing. _Slash. Swing. Step, twist. Listen. Thrust. _It was his dance, his Nirvana. A Nirvana once cloaked in the pulse of fading hearts.

But what did everything look like again? It'd been so long. In the back of his mind he could still conjure little patterns, splashes of colour, a vague shape of a long gone memory. When he tried to remember a full image, his mind would instead drizzle colours into his thoughts, like beads of dye blooming on a wet slate of... nothingness. Only the oldest of memories stayed in shades of black - his house, his parents, her.

Yes, he knew black. It was what he'd been smothered in since the beginning. He knew red, he knew green, he knew silver and yellow and gold. They were the pigments ingrained in his memory from a young age, after all. Yet he had forgotten what the simplest of colours were like; the colour of a clear sky, the tint of snow, the hues of clean skin. It was strange; knowing what something was, yet being unable to summon a full visual reference in his recollections.

Zoro thought of Robin. He connected her with a royal, elegant purple. A warm, yet cold colour. He thought of Chopper. That young doctor went hand in hand with pale tones he could no longer remember the name of, the kinds that made you feel light and fluffy inside. Zoro thought on, still leaning a broad shoulder against the window. And the shitty-cook, Sanji... He imagined that colour, the colour corresponding to that of the ocean.

Wait. The ocean was nearly the same colour as the sky. What was the sky's called? The wash that soothed his spirit. How could he not know the colour that stretched for over a thousand miles, blanketing the surface and the space above the earth? Sighing deeply, Zoro undid the bandages around his head. It was stuffy, holding him in. A constant reminder of the inescapable reality. The gauze slipped off, tumbling messily, lightly on to his shoulders. He could let them breathe.

Suddenly, he sat up. He could hear something getting nearer from the... uh... west. He'd never been good with directions. At least he could point in the direction he heard it. The tapping got louder, and suddenly it was the familiar steps of a particularly disagreeable chef.

"Oi, lunch delivery. You missed my breakfast, meathead."

The smooth voice seeped through Zoro's ears as the door creaked open without even a polite knock. He grabbed his bandages and wound them back around his eyes. Grunted a reply.

"I know."

* * *

Sanji fingered the braille book in idle silence as Zoro ate. He'd seen Zoro without his bandages, but the man had retied them in a hurry just as he entered the room. The image printed itself in to his mental book of things to reminisce. The blind man's golden brown skin was smooth, uninterrupted around his eyes. Lashes thick, a deep forest green, several shades darker than the hair on his head. Scar uneven across the flaccid lid. His eyelids. They seemed to hold no constant pressure behind them. No eyes.

He rubbed the pads of his slender fingers around the bumps and notches on the book that were now reminding him of the crests and troughs of a photo of transverse waves Usopp had shown him from his Physics class. Learning about waves and sound and god-knows weren't the only things they did that lesson, as the student engineer had told Sanji; after he'd accidentally knocked his table buddy in the face with his conspicuously long nose, the teacher had decided to talk about the vibrations the impact of his nose on the other's face had caused. "Rude!", as Usopp said. Sanji sniggered silently to himself.

"What." Zoro chewed his food, clearly wondering if the chef was laughing at him.

"No, just thinking about science. A stupid marimo like you wouldn't understand half of it."

"You can think? New discovery: the princess _does _have a brain to think with after all."

"JUST SAY THAT AGAIN, BASTARD, AND I'LL GET MY WEED CLIPPERS TO CLIP THAT DAMNED GREEN HEAD OF YOURS OFF."

"GO ON AND TRY, I'LL KNOCK YOURS OFF IN ONE HIT."

"You're probably too dumb to do that. What's this book about anyways; the braille stuff."

"I'm smarter than you think, bitch. Braille's hard to learn. And that's about myths. I'm sick of it - read it four times already.

"Braille's only hard because your skull is too thick for information to pass through. Must also be the reason why only moss grows on your head."

"Shut your trap."

Chortling, Sanji watched as the patient murderously swept his empty lunch box down into the bin beside him. The blonde picked up the book on myths and dropped it in front of the blind man. "Tell me about this."

"Find out yourself." Zoro smirked, a single green brow raising from where they looked to be resting on the bandages over his eyes. Sanji felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in irritation at the proud grin.

"Fuck you."

"You going to learn or not then?" The patient slapped the empty space by the window beside him, picking the book up with the other. The chef stared at Zoro's large hand tapping away, and unenthusiastically sat by his side.

A strange feeling arose in him as he felt the radiating, flush skin of green-haired man briefly touch his as he shifted slightly. It once again made his hairs raise. Although sure it wasn't from anger, Sanji couldn't pinpoint the exact reason. So he simply brushed it off as surprise. Still, it was very warm next to him.

Stroking the larger dots - the title - on the front of the book, Zoro put the index finger of his left hand above the first little bunch of of lumps. "J". He slid the finger over the next - just one dot. "A". Then the next, on until the end of the first set. "... P - A - N - E - S - E."

"Oh! Japanese myths? I get how this stuff works now each letter of the alphabet is represented by a small arrangement of those dots, yeah?"

"Well done, genius." Sarcasm practically oozed off the tip of Zoro's tongue.

"Hey, I've never thought about it before, you damned cabbage head."

"Then read the next line."

"..."

"Ha! It says," Zoro's scanner-like finger moved across once more, before letting his hand fall by his side. "Mythology."

"OK. You can read braille. I can't." Sanji replaced Zoro's hand, feeling the braille words press against skin, the soft creases in his palm.

They fell quiet for a while; Zoro with the book in his lap, the weight of Sanji's moving hand atop, anchoring him down. It was relatively awkward, silence being a stranger to them as they mainly yelled and fought. And yet, they felt comfortable in one another's presence. Was this what you'd call respect?

Sanji felt like he was oil floating on the expanse of water: Zoro. They were so close, yet distant. He didn't understand the blind man's life. What else did Zoro know? What caused him to be blind? How did it feel? Questions flooded his mind as he stared at the wordless inscriptions of the mythology book. Here he was, a chef, being able to see the beauty of what he made, the beauty of the world around him. What was Zoro's world, behind the bandages, behind his cold exterior?

"By the way, Zoro," Sanji wondered aloud, his eyes still fixated on the book. "Why... are you blind?"

The blonde heard the man beside him swallow thickly. His gaze flickered over Zoro's face, watching intently as the other tightened his refined jaw.

"Nothing of importance."

"Come on, tell me! Is it to do with that scar..." Impulsively, Sanji lifted his hand from the book. Brought it to Zoro's eyebrow with the scar slicing smoothly through it down to his cheek...

Flinching away, Zoro pushed the volume of myths off his lap and stood abruptly. Sanji sharply withdrew his hand to his mouth, shocked. What the hell was he doing? Trying to touch that disgusting oaf. He bit his knuckle in self-frustration.

"It's none of your business. Stay away."

"I... I- I wasn't trying to touch you! Why would I soil my hands that way!" Sanji snorted in embarrassment. "And so what if it's none of my business?"

"You don't need to know." Zoro concluded.

"Why not?"

* * *

Back faced to Sanji, Zoro bit his lip. He wasn't the kind of person to lie. But this guy was persistent, unlike the polite, mild Robin who let it go after various short attempts to get it out of him. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell. He needn't know.

"Hey, you ignoring me again? Dammit, marimo, is it that fun to pretend I don't exist?"

No, no, that's not it, he wasn't pretending the chef wasn't there. A little flame of vexation started in him. Don't say that. He wanted to laugh in his face, tell him he was an idiot. He wanted to just faint, because he didn't know how to answer. He wanted to tell him, but he didn't want to either. No one needed to know.

* * *

Zoro wasn't talking again. Shit. Why did he have to keep asking, prying. Why was he so interested? He was continuously reaching out, trying to enter the mind of the man, but each time he tried to find the centre, his fingers would glide over the wall protecting it. Faintly stroking the edges with the tips of his nails.

Why would he not tell him? Surely he must've told Miss Robin. Yeah, maybe finding the stunning psychologist would be resourceful.

"Alright. Keep that stick up your ass. I'm going."

Sanji brushed past the green-haired man, slightly irritated at how he would always shut his face and then turn in to a rock. As he closed the door, he let his only revealed blue eye stare a little longer at the patient that still stood where he was, fists kneading at the hospital attire.

* * *

"Robin-chwan, do you know why Zoro is blind?"

Holding a mug of tea in one hand, Robin leant back on her sofa as the young chef leaned forwards across her, staring lasciviously at the woman's chest as she moved. Robin wasn't taken aback by the question - many people asked the same thing - but what stumped her was that she didn't have an answer for it, unlike how intelligent and perceptive she was, the way she had an answer for every question thrown at her. The psychologist was well renown for the large proportion of acute information she knew - and her talent for finding it too.

"Sanji... That is the one thing I do not know of, including his past. I am sorry."

"Really? No, don't say you're sorry! I'm sorry for bothering you; I just thought you'd know since you seem very close to marimo- I mean Zoro. Is it to do with the scar over his eye, do you think?"

Smiling sadly, Robin shook her head. "I may be on good terms with him, but he doesn't tell a soul of who he really is. When I met him, the only thing he gave me was his first name."

"Thank you, Robin-chwan. I was wondering why he seems so pent up on telling me... Do you think he just doesn't trust us?"

"I believe he does trust us. Something else is the reason, I am sure." Her deep, lustrous eyes flickered to the door behind the blonde, and her brows furrowed softly. She leaned in close. "Only few know this, but I have the feeling you have the right to know. When Zoro first arrived here..."

Gentle whispers.

Sanji jerked back in horror. He stared at the psychologist, disbelieving. Ocean blue eyes round as orbs, lips parted slightly, hands gripping the material of his shirt over his stomach. "I'm being honest, Sanji," Robin rose from her seat, and moved lightly from her place to the door. She drew it open. A subtle call for him to take his leave. "Please do not speak of this. Forgive me."

"A-Ah... I promise."

He stood to leave, and thought awhile.

"Robin-chwan... would you happen to know any libraries with braille books?"

* * *

Late in to the night, Sanji breathed out heavily as he washed the last of the dishes at the Baratie. He'd received a general beating from his old man, the head chef and proud owner, his adoptive father, Zeff. What for, one may ask. His mind had been occupied the whole night, unfocused on his work. The old geezer knew him more than anyone else in the world. He knew what face he'd make when he was unhappy. When he was getting big-headed. When he wasn't really concentrating. Zeff had seen it, and decided to keep the young man back to wash dishes for a punishment as the lower chefs sneered behind his back, heading off for a night of drinking.

Sanji felt he couldn't help it. Robin's words were locked in his brain, unyielding, refusing to meld in to the rest of his thoughts he placed at the back of his mind when he cooked.

_"When Zoro first arrived here... Chopper ran some examinations on him. He was unwilling to cooperate at first, but eventually we had to sedate him. Chopper found quantities of acid in his blinded eyes... strong, corrosive acid... more than just a few meagre drops... We had to remove them, the eyes, before the acid could affect him internally any more..."_

A shiver slinked down his spine. Could've been an accident. A science experiment, splashed on to his face. Why else would there be acid in his eyes? It could happen to anyone. Not something so important to keep from others though. Squeezing the sponge in his gloved hand, he watched as drops of soapy water descend from the yellow dish washer and into the filthy sink below. It crashed into the dip of a spoon. Picking it up, Sanji turned the spoon. Looking at his own reflection, his face of thought.

_More than just a few meagre drops._

Or possibly, acid was dropped from a building he was walking across, and it hit his face. The events of the morning flashed through his mind. How he saw Zoro without his bandages.

_The blind man's golden brown skin was smooth, uninterrupted around his eyes._

An acid attack was impossible. Unless it hit the floor and was sent in to his eyes. But for the drops to harm both his eyes with such precision and not the rest of him... unlikely.

Grabbing a clean glass, Sanji filled it with tap water, stopping just less than an inch from the edge. Set it on the counter for chopping vegetables behind him. Reclaiming the spoon, he also filled that with water, and returned to the glass, levering the spoon so no water fell.

Hovering his face close to the glass, Sanji closed his eyes, pulling back his fringe. Why was he so intrigued? Why did he so desperately try to find out? Not to mention - why did he even bother to stay in that marimo's room after delivering lunch? There was something him. Something about his unknown past. Something about his inability to see.

He dripped the water from the spoon in to the filled glass. Little droplets of water dappled on to his forehead, a single drop hitting a closed eye.

Dripped again. The bridge of his nose, a cheekbone.

Again.

Again.

Not once did the drops hit both eyes simultaneously.

He varied the volumes of water, how close he was from the glass.

Drops never hit _both_ eyes directly on the lid - close, but not exact.

The spoon clattered to the floor.

Impossible.

He could only think of another explanation - that they were dropped directly in to his eyes.

"_Zoro... is still distressed by his loss of sight._"

It wasn't self induced.

Someone...


	6. Chapter 6

**Heya!**

**Here's chapter 6 - hope you guys like it~**

**Although I think my wording in the first part may be kinda confusing :S**

**Once again, thank you for the sweet reviews, favourites and follows... It's so good to know that my writing pleases you guys in return.**

**I hope my updates make your days better, even if only the tiniest bit, because you guys do /curls up on bed crying happily**

* * *

The psychologist, perched on the mere edge of her desk, visibly tensed as the dark haired man held a file out to her. Tentatively, Robin took the yellowed file, unwinding the flimsy string although eyes were still fixated on the man before her in a contorted mixture of disbelief, excitement, unease. Milky white skin virtually blending in to the white papers, she flicked briefly through said file. Newspaper cutouts, black and white photos, a greasy and aged letter with a corner burned right off so the words near the singed dark patches were illegible, typed paperwork and more filled the document case to metaphorical obesity.

Hesitantly, she stopped, her slender fingers stopping between some ancient articles. Heart beating heavily in her chest, Robin pulled a photo out from between, inch by inch, cautiously, prudent on getting fingerprints on to the treasured documentations. There it was. "You've seen the contents already, haven't you?"

"Yeah. Took me long enough to get it off the big guy; who wouldn't want to get their hands on it straight away?" A light chuckle.

"It really is as we suspected, Ace."

He nodded seriously. His jet-black hair swayed merrily as he did so. Ace; toned, alluring, charming freckles scattered densely across the bridge of his nose, the man crossed his arms in solemnity, his slender yet muscular figure a masterpiece sculpted by God himself. He was a bright, carefree person on a regular day, but this morning, his eyebrows were knitted together in concentration and concern.

"Let's see that." Ace pinched the corner of the extracted photo, gently tugging it out of Robin's tender hands and instead placing it flat on the desk beside her where he studied it. The photo depicted a gruesome scene. Burning carcasses of houses parting to create a road, bloodied bodies strewn atop the sickeningly harmonising red-washed earth. And by the vanishing point of the route - a faded yet solid proof of the presence of a burly stature donning a distinctive, dark coat.

"Eleven years back, this was." Robin mused, hugging her arms around her own waist as if in protection. "For so long and possibly more he's been active." She clenched her fists, releasing them again. Shuddered gently. "How cold blooded. Burning an entire village after sending them off to their graves in a massacre. Leaving them to rot in their own ashes."

"Don't put it in such a macabre way, Robin," Ace smiled uncertainly. "And we're still unsure if he did _this_ all by himself."

"A village of a mere hundred and ten... One night would've finished them all. And that's exactly as he did." Sighing apprehensively, Robin curled in on to herself, looking up at her friend, her trusted ally, with a brooding expression. "Were there not other cases as well...?"

The man nodded, briskly snatching yet another file from a tan coloured bag tossed carelessly aside beside a wide-brimmed, orange hat by the foot of Robin's desk where she sat. Rather, _he _had tossed carelessly aside earlier. He smoothed it out firmly before opening it, pulling out multiple sheets of paper stapled together. On each page were pictures of young children, smiling out at the camera. Under the heading: 'Missing'.

"There's been more cases of mass murder, but on a smaller scale. Households. All would be found dead, all bodies present, except for those of the children. We've left these kids on the 'Missing' list as we need proof of their deaths. Bodies. It had been popular around then for thieves and such to kidnap kids to use as slaves. These cases have been pointing to a mob that have been terrorising towns and other villages, only rarely attempting to slaughter the entire population."

"Just like what _he _did." Robin pressed the tip of her pinky finger below the image of the man facing away in the photo.

"Exactly. That mob shortly took over the village in this photo after the corpses were removed."

"So this man may just be connected to the mob. We need to investigate this further, Ace, and find that monster."

"On to it already." Ace wandered over to the woman, towering over her in a mock-threatening fashion, a knowing glint in his eyes as an assuring smile played on his lips. "You just stay put and keep malicious little Zoro safe, cool?" He said perkily, reaching down to shove the file back in to his bag and hauling it up from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder in a fluid movement.

"As always." Returning a smile, a smile that told Ace that her word would without a doubt be kept, Robin went to hold the door open for the man politely. With a final nod, Ace pressed his hat on to his head, low over his eyes, and took his leave.

* * *

Plodding along the floor as he pushed the trolley, his mind still whirring madly from his discovery the night before, Sanji stopped by a door. Knocks on it, calls out "Breakfast!", and enters cautiously in fear of disturbing the patient. He was unfocused. Again.

Why would anyone do such a thing to another person? Questions bubbled up from the depths of his straying mind. Are they insane?

Despite his obnoxious, rude personality, Sanji could see the sincerity in Zoro. How he'd attempted to show him braille. How he'd honestly speak his mind and knock respect - not just for himself, but for the patients too - in to the blonde. Zoro was far from frail. Far from any person he'd ever met. So deep in the darkness was he, but he had fought. He persevered.

Looking up from his thoughts as he picked up a few more boxes from the trolley, a soft sigh escaped his heart. He turned, and with a start, eyes widened with delight. A grin unfurled across his face. "Ace! Hey, Ace!"

Orange hat tipped back, Ace smiled back uncomfortably in surprise. He'd planned to give Robin the documents and then leave without attracting too much attention. And now here was his college friend whom he didn't even know was there, let alone _worked _at the hospital. "H-Hey! I didn't know you uh, help out here..."

"I just recently started. Shouldn't you be at the fire or police department, whichever you've decided to choose?" Balancing the food in one arm, Sanji slapped a hand affectionately on to the dark-haired man's shoulder. Although having not heard from one another recently, the two had been best friends throughout half of secondary and even their entire college life, sneaking out school grounds for drinks and, in Sanji's case, a quick smoke. Thinking about it, the chef realised he hadn't been smoking as often recently. No wonder his nerves were fried so easily.

"I'm here to, to visit a friend of mine!" Unbeknownst to himself, Ace was scratching the back of his own neck with one hand, a common sign of a liar, whilst the other was still latched on to his bag over his shoulder. Sanji naïvely bent backwards to Ace's will, believing the little white lie as he commented on how gracious his friend was.

One would think that two friends would have a lot to catch up on upon meeting for the first time since college, but Ace was even then in a rush to leave and excused himself, not before stabbing his number in to Sanji's phone.

The blonde stared at the man's back as he left, jaunty steps not quite the same as they used to be. Why would Ace be in such a rush, he wondered. Turning back to his trolley, he set the food he had in hand down and shoved his phone in to a pocket of his slim-fitting, black pants. Right. He nearly forgot - he had to talk to Robin. He had to tell her about the acid.

And he was, as he watched her sweet face change ever so slightly as he spoke, sure that she must've already deduced the same thing, but just was not telling him.

* * *

"You're a bright one, Sanji. I commend you for that. A truly remarkable analysis, that was. But you need to stay out of this; it's nothing you need to get involved in." Tossing a sleek wave of black hair over her shoulder, Robin smiled wanly at the man. She was deeply impressed. For him to be able to work out the direct reason to how Zoro was blinded... but she didn't want him to disturb her work. She couldn't have him trying to hack in to labyrinth of research she was doing. She knew it wasn't safe.

"Ah, Robin-chwan, I was just planning to tell you about it, and then just... and... I guess I just really want to get to know Zoro more, maybe... but-"

"Sanji, I'm sure that you're not the kind of person that leaves questions unanswered. Am I right?" Robin questioned, cutting him off.

"R-right,"

"You won't be able to leave the thought alone... It's not an affair to freely jump in to. Once you've entered, you'll never return."

"What's wrong with wanting to know more about Zoro? It's not your business either! Why does everyone try to keep me away... from... from a _friend?!_"

Sanji blinked at the sudden vehemence in his voice. He bit his tongue, ducking his head as if he was being punished, his soft fringe hiding his shamed face. Guilt stabbed him in the chest as he fisted and loosened his hands, in a beat heavy as his own once-angry heart. He hadn't meant to be so rude to beautiful Robin. What a barbarian he must seem. How uncouth and inconsiderate. "I'm sorry, Robin-chwan... I... forgive me for being so ill-mannered. I'm sorry."

"It's alright, Sanji. I understand how you feel. _I _must apologise for not being able to tell you more, so please see that it would be better, for your own good. Zoro has his business, and you have your dreams, no?" The chivalrous woman spoke apologetically, smiling in forgiveness, a tolerance that of a mothers'.

"I'm so sorry, Robin-chwan... I don't even deserve to say your name." He backed towards the office door, head still lowered. He bit his lower lip anxiously. "Truly sorry." Remorsefully, he turned to leave. He felt so infuriated by his own act. He wanted to push himself off a cliff. His morale told him that there was no excuse to hurt or offend a woman in any way - verbally, physically, mentally - and he had broken it. Women, he found, were fragile as glass. One drop and they could just shatter. He had built his own discipline upon the respect he held for women; they were they ones who brought the children to the world, who brought the next generation.

The psychologist's voice stopped him momentarily as his skin touched the cool metal door handle.

"And it is my business... Because I brought him here."

* * *

Closing the door behind him gently, Sanji walked over and picked up a book he had sat carefully inside, and the last box in the trolley - the number 212 sprawled on the lid - tucking them in the nook of his elbow. He gently stroked the three digits with his thumb. The colour of moss green filled his mind as he smiled softly. Wha-? He slapped himself on the cheek, wincing. The hell was he doing, grinning like a total dork just from seeing that familiar number. He felt suspicious with himself. Something was stirring. What was it? He felt anticipation in realising it was Zoro's room that was number 212. He was happy to see that bastard cabbage head again. At times, he just couldn't comprehend what goes on through his head.

His hand strayed on his cheek, feeling the smooth curve of his skin, the little fuzz of his stubble tickling the bottom of his palm as he cupped his face. He wondered what it felt like to be blind. To only be able to feel things, hear things. To be forced to be intimate with the other senses that meant drawing things close to you to know what it was. He leant his back against the door to room 212, a muted thud where he and the door made contact.

Shutting his eyes, he tilted his head back, touching the wooden frame behind his with the crown of his scalp. He wished he didn't have to fall so far in to the pit of curiosity. As the phrase said; "Curiosity killed the cat". He felt strange. He was only ever interested in ladies and their life. Nami, and her honest heart. But he couldn't draw his mind away from the blind man. _Was _it because he was blind? Not only Zeff, but now he had realised how caught up in his thoughts. Some time, somehow, wanting to protect that marimo became a silent hope.

He pushed off from the frame, lids fluttering open again. Shitty marimo was waiting for his food, wasn't he. Rapping his knuckles on the wood, he entered. "Oi." he said.

Zoro was sitting cross legged on the floor, spine straight, shoulders relaxed. His hands lay almost weightlessly on his knees. There was that calm aura again, like the day he'd first tried out a kick on the angry patient. Golden. Like before, Sanji was captivated.

Only the sound of leaves rustling outside the window kept them from the hush. The leaves on the trees were already starting to rust; they were turning deep russets, amber, copper - rich. If only Zoro could see them. A devious thought entered his mind as he watched the meditating man. As quietly as he could, he set the food and book down, tiptoed over to the patient, drew back his right leg. And swung, directed at the waist.

Like a flash of lightning, white in hospital attire, Zoro shot a hand out and grabbed the leg curving in the air aiming for him, without a tiniest twitch. "You think I don't know you were here? I could hear you standing outside the door like a loner too, princess." A smirk.

Hoisting his leg up swiftly so it slipped from Zoro's grasp, he balanced stably on just his left foot, raised on his toes, ready for the next move. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a _fucking _princess?"

The green-haired man rose, eyebrows bunching together as he focused, determining the distance the chef was from himself. An invitation for a fight, eh. "I do what I want." With a strong thrust of a foot, Zoro took off like a bullet, fist tight and ready to strike the other man.

Sanji's raised leg snapped down, deflecting the jab. Zoro suddenly crouched, twisting his lithe body so his leg drifted along the cool floor. The blonde saw it coming. He was using the same technique of trying to smash him to the floor, like how they fought just outside the hospital.

Grinning smugly, Sanji jumped, bringing his knees up close, staying airborne long enough to ram a heel in to Zoro's chest just as he stood. He felt flesh under the soles of his shoes. Through strands of blonde hair, Sanji saw that Zoro had stopped the impact with a hand, and was now trying to shove him back. Tough luck, Sanji thought. My leg strength is unmatched. He watched the patient's face. His bandaged eyes...

Still in 'flight', the chef thrust his other heel in to the patient - this time, hitting the arm with execrable force. Upon impact, the two fighters were propelled backwards, away from one another. Both landed on their feet, one of Zoro's hands sweeping the hospital floor to tell him where he'd fell. They inhaled, exhaled. Breaths quick, attentive, excited.

"That kick... It's not as strong as before." Zoro said.

"I was distracted."

"By what? You should never lose focus in a fight, you fucker."

"By your ugly mug, bastard!"

"In all honesty, I have a feeling you're uglier."

"Shitty marimo."

"Shitty cook."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Sanji turned and picked up the book and food he'd left by the door. He walked over to Zoro, now standing and brushing out his clothes. The blonde watched, fascinated by how big the others' hand was. Flinching, the blonde shook his head, as if trying to shake the random interest out his head.

"Hey... are you keeping something from me?" Zoro spoke slowly, chewing on his words in uncertainty. In shyness. Sanji caught this, and couldn't help a little grin quivering across his dashing features. God, Zoro looked so childish there, he wanted to laugh in delight. It was just so entertaining. But how had Zoro known he was staying silent about knowing of the acid?

"No... Nothing important." Sanji said, wondering why frogs and snakes weren't tumbling out his mouth from the blatant lie.

"... Alright." There was a hint of disbelief that the chef picked up. Sorry, he thought mentally. I can't.

"Hey, you know... how I was prying in to your past, yesterday?" He asked tentatively. Now it was his turn to fidget, biting his lower lip as he always did when nervous.

A grunt came in reply. Biting down harder on the glossy pink meat of his lip, Sanji averted his gaze to the book he held in hand.

"I... just wanted to say sorry. I'm nosy, I really want to know... Actually, I'm not _that _nosy, usually. You're interesting. Yeah. Dammit!" He clonked his head his wrist. What was he _saying _now?! "Urgh. So, uh, I went to a library just before I came this morning. And, I found my favourite childhood book in braille... I think, you know, well, maybe you should read it?" Sheepishly, he held the book out to Zoro. The green-haired man took it, an unreadable expression on his face.

"It's called All Blue," Sanji babbled. "I used to read it all the time. Hell, I still do. It's good, really, so read it."

"I don't want to." The blind man said bluntly, although he had an enquiring finger already trailing over the title.

"Come on. Do something I say for once. I, really, this... Just READ it!" A blush seeped through the collar of his shirt and up his neck and cheeks. Sanji felt slightly put off. He was so enthusiastic about getting this guy to read his favourite book, but now he was refusing, to much of Sanji's chagrin and embarrassment. He'd wanted him to read it because... just because!

Zoro said nothing in reply, instead just rubbing the smooth cover of the book. The cook sighed, and placed the nearly-forgotten box containing food on the bedside table, fork on the right. He felt like a complete blatherer, stumbling out inaudible words and simply expecting the patient to take the book. What did he expect? This was _the_ bitchy Zoro. "I'm not gonna deliver lunch later on. I bet you're happy, huh?"

He went to exit the room. The blonde had extra back to back shifts at the Baratie today, another one of old fart Zeff's forms of punishment. Hearing the creak of the bed, Sanji glimpsed back to see Zoro plonk himself down on the mattress, the 'All Blue' book resting on his lap. Pursing his lips, Sanji left.

As he shut the door, polite as he often was, he missed the lowered mumble of the blind man whispering to himself: "Not happy."


	7. Chapter 7

**Helloooooo!**

**Um um um, thanks so much for giving so many reviews and follows for my last chapter /blushes and hides behind hands**

**I think this... project is really helping me in improving my writing skills.**

**By the way; the next few chapters will be more on the development between Sanji and Zoro /sparkles**

**I'm hoping to get to the 14th chapter by Valentines, so it's hardcore typing for me~ So far, yet so close.**

* * *

Knocking on the door, Sanji entered Ward 212, lunch in hand. Zoro hadn't been in during the morning, the braille book of 'All Blue' left looking untouched by the window. What a waste, Sanji had thought to himself. After he'd deliberately went to out of his way to find it for him.

It felt so strange, doing so much for the blind man. He wasn't even sure of how he felt about him. That bastard was uncouth, throwing insults here and there, not a single word of 'thank you' or 'sorry'! The two of them were just so... different. How they started to even marginally get along was like a miracle; as rare and near impossible as finding a clear, plastic marble within a tub of millions of identical glass ones. The chef hated how he knew nearly nothing about Zoro. He felt so far away. He felt so lost. He felt so... lonely. Something, Sanji wanted to do something to get even a tinier bit deeper within the green-haired man's range. It was selfish, yes. To only want to get along better with a person because he wasn't used to being kept at such a distance. Was it just that? In a way, Sanji had already acknowledged that he was more interested in this _git _more than anyone else. Hah! Maybe he was just going crazy.

Pushing the door open, Sanji stalked in to the ward, shoulders hunched and strides long. It never occurred to him that it was somewhat pointless trying to keep his cool, 'badass' way of walking when Zoro couldn't even see him to feel intimidated. Just as he'd taken not five steps in the room, the blonde stopped, a leg halfway through the air. His jaw nearly broke off its' hinges as his mouth fell open.

* * *

Zoro, although with his back facing the doorway, was reading 'All Blue'. Mossy green head tilted to a side, white-clothed back slouching in a relaxed position, he was sitting on the bed with a leg propped up and the other strewn across the length of the mattress so it could be seen just over his shoulder; the oversized braille book, spread open, his golden-brown hands almost caressing the bumps. The cool light of a summer just meeting fall glowing through the window tinted everything through a vintage filter. It's like a movie, he thought - one of those scenes where a star-crossed couple meet for the first time... Wait what?

Sanji felt like punching his own face in until it caved in with a fist imprint over his nose. But more importantly... _Zoro was reading 'All Blue'. _Never before had such a feeling of victory overcome him. He felt as if all emotion had been flushed out except for, well, smugness, but also a tingling warmth that made him smile softly to himself. He was just so satisfied that Zoro was reading the book he'd loved so much.

"I thought you weren't going to read it," Sanji said quietly, almost lost in nostalgia. He walked over slowly, placing the lunch box on the bedside table, fork on the right. This simple action was practically becoming a habit now. He turned back, observing the blind man who made no move to greet him. Instead, he was... pouting?

"I finished the myths and wasn't bothered to find another. This thing just happened to be there, so whatever. Problem?" Zoro snorted nonchalantly. Feeling around briefly, the man picked up the bookmark beside him, slipping it between the lumpy pages of the chapter he was on and putting it down in exchange for the lunch box. This book was good, alright. But he wasn't going to admit it. Not to this zealous snot of a princess. Should he? Arguing with him from time to time was fun, of course... but he didn't like the feeling of lying.

The blonde laughed light-heartedly. Zoro was being... what was that Japanese word - tsundere, was it? It was quite the adorable thing to see. And it made him feel dominant, you could say. "You know how I'm a chef, yeah?" He leant against the bedside table with a strong hand.

Stuffing himself, Zoro nodded.

"I love cooking. I believe... I _know _I can do even more. I'm nearly there - and when I am, I'm going to open my own restaurant. Call it All Blue after this book. After this dream."

Zoro was silent. Sanji looked over for a response, and sighed. Not like he was expecting this guy to care, but he really wanted to share that with him. "It'll be even better than the Baratie, I swear." He prompted.

"You're so cheesy." Zoro retorted, mouth full of rice.

Surprised, Sanji stared at him before feeling that familiar rush of an incoming spiteful comeback. He pushed his face up close to the patients'. "WHAT? AT LEAST I'VE GOT A DREAM TO-"

"Oh, Sanji! How are you two getting along?" A silky voice cut through his rant, smooth as chocolate and soft as the top quality whipped cream from the Baratie. Sanji wobbled slightly at the sound of the voice.

Spinning around on his toes, he cried "Robin-chwan~! My angel, how are you? You look absolutely ravishing today, as always!" Practically prancing across from one side of the room to the other, he snatched the psychologist's hand in his and led her in. She smiled tolerantly at him, and he turned to a cooked noodle, waving about like seaweed.

"Fine." Zoro replied bluntly, shoving his finished food aside. He felt a little prick of irritation. Sure, he cared about Robin like she was his mother, but right now... she was, sort of, blockading him. And although he didn't want to believe it, he was irritated at her for taking away Sanji's attention.

Robin took her eyes off the clingy blonde who was still holding her hand, and looked to Zoro. His mouth was set in a thin line - a sign that he was bothered. She recognised it, and half-grin settled on her lips. Those two were establishing quite a the relationship, weren't they? "You two are getting along very well, I see." She chortled, turning back to Sanji.

Speechless, Sanji just stared at the woman in shock. Even Zoro's eyebrows were gathered in a way that expressed disbelief. She chuckled brightly, slipping her creamy pale hand out of the chef's now-loose grip and raising it to her sharp chin. "W-what?! No, Robin-chwan, that marimo just said..." he stumbled out, just as the psychologist swept out the room with a turn of her heel. He simply gawped in complete bewilderment at the open door.

* * *

"Disgusting."

"_What's _disgusting?" The cook spat, whirling around to face Zoro from his commentary.

"_You're _disgusting, acting like a creep to Robin. I bet you do the same with every girl, huh?" Zoro sniggered, picking up the book on his bed and cautiously standing. Zoro was stable on his feet. He was a fighter. But he always took his time to stand... In case he fell, in case it wasn't safe. Before he arrived here in the hospital... It was a basic of survival.

Offended, Sanji took a threatening step forwards. Now his blood was having fun, swirling around his insides as he snarled "Disgusting? You just don't know how to properly treat a woman in a gentlemanly way!"

"You don't need to start jumping around, singing and making a fool out of yourself, shitty cook."

"Oi, stupid, don't you know how important women are?"

"And?"

Sanji felt like tearing his soft hair off his head. For god's sake! "Women are the source of life! They all deserve to be treated with utmost care. Their beauty needs to be treated with utmost care too, because they make this world a hundred times more stunning. They cancel out the ugly _you _exude!"

Throwing back his head, Zoro laughed. It was a sunny laugh, a genuine laugh of happiness. What for? Sanji had never seen the blind man's face nearly split in half from laughing, or even smiling, and so awestruck was he that he didn't even yell at him, despite taking the laugh in as one of mockery. He thought to himself; Zoro looked so much better than his gloomy, rude self when he laughed. The rows of even, pearly teeth twinkled sweetly as his handsome features lifted from his beaming grin. Privately, the cook wished he could see the man smile like this more often... even if it meant he'd be teased.

"God, you're such a prick!" Zoro snickered, ambling away from the bed to sit by his spot by the window. "How the hell do people put up with you?"

"Fuck off!" Fumed Sanji. "You'd better treat women well. A woman brought your stupid ass into this world, so be thankful!"

Standing with his hands gripped tight, the blonde huffed angrily. Zoro, on the other hand was suddenly quiet again, his grin chased away. For a minute or so, the only sound that could be heard was the rugged breaths of the provoked chef, the whisper of the swaying leaves outside, crisp as fresh new dollar bills but dry as sand. In that moment, the warm atmosphere became sluggish, lethargic, in alignment to Zoro's thoughtful silence.

"Yeah. Sure. But not all women have kids. Or even _good _kids. Some shouldn't even have been born." The green-haired man said in a low voice, a corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. Doleful, his voice weighted with remorse that Sanji didn't understand.

The chefs' eyes grew wide. "What do you mean, 'shouldn't have been born'?! Everyone was born for a reason." He blurted out. He felt a clutch on his heart - afraid that what he'd said had hurt Zoro in a way like he might've before. Worried that Zoro's expression was really telling him that... _he _wished he'd never been born.

"Then why are humans evil? Why do they kill and steal and destroy?" The patient muttered, almost timid, desperate. He ran his large, right hand over the surface of the window seat, over the book of 'All Blue'. Zoro was, for once, glad he couldn't see. He wouldn't be able to look the chef in the eye and say that out loud. Because although he looked tough, was physically strong... He had grown soft inside. He didn't want that. He knew he didn't belong in a place as wonderful as this. And if he needed to part with it, he couldn't stay like this.

"Not all people are, Zoro... Some were born for showing the world what happens to those who don't walk the right road. Some were born to make a difference. Most often... they were born to be with another, yeah?" Tenderly, Sanji stepped around the bed, and knelt on one knee in front of the patient. His heart; it hurt, it hurt, seeing the marimo how he was. It hurt, it hurt, just saying it himself. He may say lovely things, but he didn't grasp the meaning. Who was he, himself, meant for? Nami flashed through his mind, but he knew she was whom he _thought _was the one. Where was he meant to be? In the arms of another, or out at sea, or even rotting away in the pits of a living hell?

"I don't know..." The patient said, more to himself than Sanji.

"Trust me; we have futures, we have time upon us. If we didn't, we wouldn't be here. We wouldn't have fate, stupid marimo." Tapping Zoro on his forehead, trying to lighten the mood, he watched as the blind man nod; not in agreement, but more so in absorbing what the blonde said.

Once again, silence. The two were still, taking in the presence of everything around them, not knowing what to say. Not knowing why, but Sanji wanted to throw his arms around Zoro and pet his mossy head. Mumble incomprehensible things to him, in hope that his voice would soothe him. Why was he so unhappy? What had happened to him, to make him so sullen? Sanji wanted to ask so much, yet knew he wouldn't get an answer. He stood to leave. His mind told him it was about time he made his way to the Baratie, though his heart lingered to stay.

* * *

Turning, he suddenly felt a pull on his wrist. In surprise, he looked back. Zoro was holding his wrist in a warm hand, the other still hovering over the braille book. "Hey." Zoro tugged his arm gently, pulling the chef back. Eyes fluttering from the blind man's hand on his wrist to his face, Sanji obediently tottered back, inquisitive. "Yeah?"

"I remembered... I haven't seen you yet."

"What?"

Thinking he misheard, Sanji blinked. He felt his arm being pulled sharply, and without warning, he was face to face with the blind man. Self-consciously, he felt his face bloom rosy pink, spreading like warm honey. Argh, what's with the intimacy?

Zoro's hands moved from the book and his wrist, to his cheeks, cosily hot and soothing in a homely manner. Startled, Sanji jerked back, but the blind man held his head still. Like a stampede of horses was what Sanji's chest felt like, rising and falling at an extreme pace. Eyes like saucers, his face wasn't even close to pink anymore - it was boiling hot magma. "O-Oi! What are you doing?!" He struggled, mortified.

"I'm seeing you." Thumbs brushing over the chef's slim nose, Zoro calmly felt the man's features, memorising each millimetre of skin. The shitty cook was hot under his touch, soft lips parted slightly, jawline slender and well defined. He felt Sanji's eyes shut tightly, profile tensing up as he walking his fingers over his eyes, lashes dense and soft as feathers, face clear as a blank sheet.

The feeling was like electricity. There was a connection between them, like the north and south of magnets. They felt mutual equality, like the balance of a scale. In this action, Zoro could somewhat picture what Sanji looked like. But after not seeing the light of day, the surfaces he touched, humanity itself for so long... He honestly didn't know what image he was creating in his mind. Knowing that by doing this, he'd be bringing himself and the chef closer, he may grow more attached to this place. Curiosity was eventually going to get the better of him.

It was in those short minutes that Sanji felt a new a sense of perception. With each brush of the blind man's hand, the chef could feel prickles in his skin, crying out for more of the same. He now saw Zoro as a fledgling caught in a cage - searching, wondering, wanting to see the world but locked away, until someone would be so willing to give their freedom to him. He was a fledgling looking for happiness, and Sanji hoped he could find even a tiny bit of it in him.

* * *

Fingers laced through his fringe as he thought. "Shitty cook. Why do you cover your eye?" Zoro's deep voice caused the blonde's eyes to flit open.

There wasn't a reason to cover his left eye, actually. He wasn't blind in one eye, nor was it deformed. "It's my style." He retorted.

"Doesn't it block your vision?"

"No."

"Your hair's gonna irritate your eye then."

"'Course not."

"It will, you should pull it back."

Feeling a calloused hand sliding under his fringe, Sanji reared away, out of the patient's hold. "Oi! I won't, I like it like this." He smoothed his hair down, his cheeks still a wine-red colour.

"You're gonna hurt your eye, you ass! You're a chef, you need to treasure your sight!" Zoro yelled. The blind man's eyebrows shot up in astonishment at the harshness of his own voice. He bit his tongue.

Sanji also went quiet at his voice. He was touched, stirred by the rough words with gentle message. Zoro, he cared. Cared about _him_. And he'd thought that bastard just wanted him gone. A fuzzy feeling rolled out from inside of him.

"Alright, I'll put it up once in a while." He smiled to himself as he straightened up. "I promise, 'kay?"

"Hmph." Zoro spun around on his seat, facing aside in a childish way, folding his arms.

Smirking, Sanji scoffed at the green-haired man. He leant down, pausing, then touched the others' hand serenely in a bidding of farewell. Zoro flinched a bit as he did so, cheeks warming a tint. "See you, shitty marimo." The chef withdrew, abandoning Zoro in his wistful memory of seeing Sanji.


	8. Chapter 8

__**Hurray for some writers' block...**

**Personally, I think this is like a kind of bridge chapter. Not too vital but needed to bring the story on to the next part.**

**And and and ohmigod 8 reviews for my last chapter /wipes manly tears**

**I'd like to thank xxShinxx again for helping point out my mistake in that chapter too /blows kiss**

**No worries, the mistake beast has been killed! Onwards!**

* * *

_"Sir, we've located our target! It's him!"_

_"What's your source."_

_"Uh, sightings, sir."_

_"You'd better be right this time or your head will roll. Dispatch some men to search; I want that cockroach of mine alive."_

_"Y-Yessir!"_

_ The scrawny lackey scuttled off, terrified. Meaty fingers lacing together as his elbows sat on the bloodied table before him, the large man leant forwards in his seat, resting his filthy nose on his hands. A wicked grin was plastered to his scruffy face, lips fat and mouth wide. Like a shark ready for prey. Wisps of black smoke coiled around the concrete floor; cold, malicious. A rumbling chuckle echoed through the dingy room, and with a flick of the man's black coat, he rose, his body vast in comparison to the enclosed area, stalking out with yellowed, broken teeth reflected in faint light as he cackled to himself._

_"It's been a while, brat!"_

* * *

Walking along the floor, Sanji stopped by Ward 212. It was early in the morning; he'd thought he'd see if Zoro was in just before he started making the breakfast meals. The chef felt a stronger connection to the green-haired man since... since Zoro had 'seen' him. So it was true that physical contact could bring two people closer. Sanji felt happy thinking about the patient - content, even. He was finally getting less far away from the grouchy patient.

Pushing the door open a crack, Sanji peeked in. To some mild surprise, he saw the back of Robin's hourglass figure, long dark hair flowing down her back like a shadowed waterfall. Lord, she was staggeringly gorgeous even from behind. Perverted smile on face, the blonde averted his eyes to the patient in his bed further in the room. He was sitting up, alert - surely noticing that Sanji was there. Robin's voice floated through the open door, catching the chef's attention again.

"Red smeared hands and bodies in your nightmares?"

"Yeah."

"I see..."

The sound of scribbling.

Robin was doing her job huh, Sanji thought. But her words stuck in his mind. What kind of nightmares were Zoro having? _Red _smeared hands. _Bodies_. He shuddered at the thought. Was Zoro's mind just teasing him, or were they memories? What if this was connected to the acid in his eyes? Backing away, thoughts running riot, the chef's heart pounded in his strong chest. There were so many possibilities that he could create, but he felt none were correct. After all, there would only ever be one reason to explain it. Only one past.

He turned and ran, back to the hospital kitchen. His interest, his curiosity was just so strong. He wished he knew why he was so bothered by it, and why he felt scared when he saw Robin with Zoro. Yes, he adored Robin; she was lovely and mysterious and beautiful - but when she was with Zoro he felt... a little tugging inside him. Could he be falling for her, now that he'd lost Nami to Luffy? It was impossible for him to feel that odd feeling for Zoro, wasn't it? He was straight, straight as a ruler up and down, and everyone knew how he was. It wasn't acceptable in society to be... different. Ah well, he thought, knowing his love for women was unparalleled. However, the reminiscence of the feeling of Zoro's touch tickled his jaw.

* * *

Returning to serve breakfast (like he was meant to in the first place), Sanji didn't bother knocking on the door and kicked it open. He let out a little choke of embarrassment when he saw that the psychologist was still in the room. She was talking, but stopped, turning to him at the doorway and smiling, her version of a poker face. He felt his legs turn to jelly at the sight of her, but mentally felt like someone had thrown a rock and crushed him with it. Shit. He thought she'd be gone by the time he was back. Now he must look like a badly brought up ape that bulldozed through every opening.

"Sanji, good morning." Robin spoke in her sophisticated way. She was wearing a very faintly tinted lipgloss, Sanji noticed, giving her lips a velvety luminesce.

"Good morning, my radiant Robin-chwan! Forgive me for kicking the door..."

A snigger from a certain green-haired man caused Sanji to stretch his neck unceremoniously to the side to look daggers at the source. But of course, Zoro couldn't see the glare, much to the chef's chagrin.

"It's fine, I understand it's your way of greeting Zoro." Robin laughed. Standing, she thanked the blonde as he handed her breakfast along with a flurry of praise for her beauty.

"I'm glad to see that you both will be able to taste my breakfast today, since I noticed and heard from Chopper that morning training was in your routine!" The chef placed the other breakfast box on Zoro's bedside table, with the fork, as always.

"Your food is only OK anyways," Zoro grunted, batting the blonde's hand away to get his food.

Sanji sucked in his lips in annoyance. "Now you're lying." he said, rejecting the patients' words. Sanji knew for a fact that he was the best chef - excuse me, the second best, not to forget old man Zeff - in the Baratie. Letting someone degrade his cooking skills was not something he let pass; he'd kick them in to meat patty if they did.

"If your food is this _average_, I suppose that Baratie place of yours is too." Playing with the chef's nerves like the keys and mechanics of a piano, the blind man was enjoying himself. He thought himself cruel in nature, sure, but he loved teasing Sanji. That man was incredibly funny to mock, because he'd snap like a stick and throw tantrums.

The blonde's toes curled in frustration. "You've never tasted the food from the Baratie, marimo." he growled.

"I'm judging by what you make, shitty cook."

"Mind your language around a lady, you rude moss-head !"

"I say what I want, _shitty cook_."

"Are you saying my cooking is shit?!" Sanji was genuinely offended. Metaphorical flames were surrounding him and his head - burning blue flames, blistering his calmness. Zoro on the other hand was glowing with pleasure at his anger.

A muted cough stopped the arguing men. "I shall leave you two to your... fun." The woman giggled and swept across the room, pressing a tiny sheet of paper in the palm of the blonde as she left. His 'flames' died down almost immediately and turned in to a wet leaf - he flopped around, hoping to get the woman's attention so she didn't have to leave. "Robin-chwan~! Please stay!" he called after her, his voice sounding a touch desperate, taking an anguished step forwards. And was ignored.

He wrapped his fingers around the note. He'd read it later; he thought it was private, important. Deep down, he hoped it would be a love note. Awkwardly, he stuffed his hands in to the pockets of his jeans, slipping the note into his, of course, slim fit jeans; being the stylish man he liked to be presented as, he was always on trend, wearing modern yet classic clothing. He tried his best to keep his dignity in one piece at all times, and believed that wearing appropriate clothing helped do so. I mean, a man in expensive, well-fitted clothes always looked better, more well educated than a chump in greasy t-shirts and sagging pants. So even if he was rejected, dumped, pushed in to a ditch - he'd still look... good.

"What's it say on the paper." Zoro demanded to know, scratching his ear.

As expected of the shitty marimo, Sanji thought to himself. The blind man never failed to impress the chef with his heightened senses. Though it was wrong of him to say so, Sanji was jealous. He hated himself for thinking that way. Vision was the most vital collector of information, and he knew it was especially needed in his profession. But he couldn't help but imagine how much more he could do if he had a nose with higher sensitivity that could tell him what elements were missing, a delicate tongue to find out what the secret ingredients behind a master dish was...

What if he was blind? How would he be like? Unable to cook to his joy and content, unable to see the vibrance of everything he loved? Not knowing what was danger? Ever since the day before, when Zoro had told him to treasure his sight, he felt like he wanted to give the blind man a chance in his life to experience the world today. Yet it wasn't possible - he couldn't see, and that was that.

Sliding the sheet of paper out his pocket again, Sanji read aloud; "Please continue keeping Zoro company. He certainly _likes_ having you around."

"WHAT?!" The green-haired man yelled in a mixture of what sounded like disgust and shock, almost flipping his open breakfast box he now held in hand over the bed sheets. Sanji just stood in his spot, staring at the small piece of paper until his vision tunnelled in on the words. God, what was the psychologist implying? And why the hell could he feel a heated rush branch up from his neck to his ears?

"Uh, I'm not kidding..." Sanji choked out miserably.

"I fucking know."

"Well... any comments?"

"... No."

Mocking silence hung over them. This seemed to occur quite a lot between the two, Sanji noticed. If they weren't arguing or if they weren't talking seriously, they would be like statues, listening to the ticking of their hearts like clocks reminding them that time was still moving, that they weren't frozen - that they couldn't live in a juncture in a lifetime forever. Teasing them, laughing at how they literally shared no moment where they smiled together.

What an odd friendship, comradeship, whatever it was they had, Sanji thought. They didn't even call each other by their proper names. Zoro's chewing and the rustle thump of the box hitting the stomach of the bin was the only sound the room held.

"I'm going to head back to the kitchen," The blonde mumbled, willed to crumple the paper despite how it was his Robin-chwan that gave it to him.

"You're not doing what Robin told you to do." Scoffed Zoro. A playful quirk of his lips.

Sanji's eye twitched. It was strange hearing the grouchy man suddenly acting like he wanted him to not leave. Alienated, almost. He felt like throwing his arms up and screaming up at the sky - or ceiling - 'WHO IS THIS GUY?'. Saying he didn't like it would be dishonest though. He felt like he was peeling Zoro like a banana, or an onion, removing the outer layers bit by bit. He was finding new traits the marimo possessed.

Continuing with the act, Sanji bit back with a sarcastic, pompous smirk. "You must really love me then, hey?"

The blind man reached up and threw a punch at the chef's head. "In your dreams, princess."

Easily avoiding Zoro's fist, Sanji kept his eyes on the blind man. He was starting to really notice those bandages around the patients' eyes again - and how he'd deduced how Zoro became blind was itching him like a large ant on the back of his neck. No matter how many times he'd try to smack it away like how Robin told him to, he never hit bullseye, never killed it. There was another ant of annoyance too; it was one that made him feel like he was pushed in the dark. Guilt.

Guilt of not telling Zoro that he knew, although that man had sensed him keeping quiet about something after he'd first realised it. Sanji knew he had to confess what he knew to Zoro one day. He didn't know when as he was afraid, scared that the blind man would become excruciatingly angry and have them return to point one of their relation, or worse, refuse to talk to him. Maybe now would be an ideal time... Would it? The decision clattered in Sanji's brain. Cold fire, soundless violin; whether or not to speak now confused him to no end.

He opened his mouth, fighting to control his tongue as he spoke nervously. "O-Oi, marimo..."

"What."

Bit his lip, hard. Considering his last chances of saying anything random in exchange for his worries. "Your, uh... Your eyes... I asked you how... before, didn't I?" He was a man. He couldn't be a afraid to tell a person something as simple as 'I know about it'. He tapped the corner of his only revealed right eye, trying to indicate what he was talking about. It never really settled in to his consciousness that Zoro wouldn't see his movements; his brain treated the blind man as if he could still see, like in his faded past.

Zoro grunted, faintly irritated. As if he was saying 'not _this_ again, just shut up already'.

Sanji ran his tongue over his lips which had dried like sand under his inner turmoil. "I kinda... figured it out, myself. It's acid, isn't it? It was dropped in to your eyes. Why would anyone do such a thing? Who was it?!" Sounding on the verge of being hysterical, the blonde's voice rose with each sentence, each question. The reason wasn't that he was getting frustrated. No, he was worried, in fact. He wanted so badly to know what kind of sick, inhumane creature would do something like that to Zoro. What nutter, to one as genuine Zoro.

* * *

Upon hearing the words, he sat in his bed, a shaking tremor beginning in his abdomen and reverberating out across his body. Zoro tensely gripped his hands together, trying to stop the quakes to no avail. How the hell did Sanji _figure it out_ himself? He lifted a trembling hand to his bandages. His head throbbed at memories that suddenly cascaded in to his mind. Large hands, smoke... A shudder rang through him. Fright. If Sanji knew... then...

Why would Sanji go so far to find out about him? He felt as if lava was pluming inside his chest. Why would he keep _prying_, always pestering him with questions and then realising it himself? Zoro hated it. Despised it. Wished Sanji just _wouldn't_. That shitty chef knew for certain that he was strong, was rude and disliked, but kept staying near him. The blind man wanted to just grab Sanji's shoulders and shake him until he realised how _dangerous _he was. Shake him until he realised how unfair it was for himself.

Zoro hated how Sanji kept wanting to know more.

Despised how Sanji was unconsciously putting himself at risk to do so, when he, Zoro, wasn't worth it.

"Stop trying to delve in to other people's shit," He started off quietly, only the shaking of his voice giving away his rancid emotions. "IT'S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS! Don't THINK of such stupid crap!"

Stay away, stay away. He didn't want to let anything happen to people close to him. Infuriated, he felt himself being torn in two. He didn't want to be alone, but it was woven in to his destiny. He could only be harsh if he wished to protect. If Sanji hadn't found out, he needn't have to push him away. The man's company was enjoyable, and although Zoro made futile grabs at the life of a normal person, he never reached it. He didn't deserve it. He couldn't escape brutal reality.

"Shit... shit! I- I just... Fuck, I care, OK?! I never expected it! Damn, I don't know why I even care! What is it about you - you and everything - that gets my mind on overheat? It's terrifying, I just want to leave it like I fucking should, but why do I keep coming back?!" The chef's voice pooled in to his ears like spilt wine on a tablecloth.

Depth of his breaths deeper, heavier, Zoro was thrown to a daze. The nothingness around what he could 'see' seemed to spin as a fresh new beat started in his heart. Angered heat morphing in to one that radiated off his cheeks, Zoro felt as if his soul had been stabbed. Sanji cared. And it hurt him so much to hear it. Please, he laboured to stop the stinging in his eyelids. Please don't care...

* * *

Sanji curled his fingers into his golden locks. Zoro had said nothing after he'd yelled, instead clutching the blanket of white over him. Why couldn't all the answers just appear in front of his eyes? Seise his vexing thirst for knowledge on the blind man? So that he could finally let go?

"Z- Zo-"

"I'm gonna sleep."

The patient burrowed under the sheets, almost like he was trying to cancel out Sanji. The blonde felt like crying. Everything he did or said seemed to emotionally attack the blind man. He stared at his feet in shame and sadness. "I'll go then... Don't miss lunch..."

"Just leave it on the table."

"Alright. I'm sorry..."

He lifted his blue eyes to the man once more, filled with misery like a shipwreck in his ocean blue irises. The lack of response to his apology was like a slap across his face. For a while longer, Sanji stared almost longingly at the figure in the bed - material rippling around his muscular form as he shifted, Zoro never raised his head once.

Sanji suddenly noticed his outstretched hand. His spirit - it was calling for Zoro, begging him to talk to him. Dropping the arm by his side again, the blonde left, thinking it was useless now the man was sleeping.

With feet of lead, he dragged himself downstairs, only thinking of the green haired man. For the first time in his life, he wished he could turn back time. He wanted to reverse everything, so he had never confessed what he knew to Zoro, so their newly constructed bond hadn't broken in a matter of seconds. Yeah, to go back to when Zoro had 'seen' him instead. He didn't understand why he thought returning to just that moment would be ideal, but he wanted to relive it, tell the man he would never pry again.

Little did he know, the blind man lay in his room, still awake, unlike his usual habit of falling asleep the instant his head hit the pillow. He was possessed by the same memory, swept away by the regret of needing to distant the two of them. Yet he'd never, ever regret seeing Sanji - because although it was the wrong thing to do, it felt as if the world around them had crumbled away for them to meld as one in just that simple touch. It felt... right.


	9. Chapter 9

**Woohoooooo! Super long chapter 9, finally done!**

**Finally... Some of Zoro's past /sparkles**

**This chapter was meant to be even longer than it already is... but it gets boring once it's too long, right?**

**Thank you for your support, everyone**

* * *

He wakes up, hitched breaths from parted lips and hearts' rolling beat the only sound in his ears. It's another one of them. Those nightmares. They would never leave him alone, would they? He was bound by the chains of his past, time's shackles weighing him down unlike how real ones would have almost no effect on him.

Zoro's chest wretchedly beating, as if wanting to break him from the inside out, he turned his head left and right. Cold sweat beaded on his forehead. Body shivering, but not from a temperature drop. Wherever he looked - wherever he _tried _to look - he saw nothing. Why? _Why?! _With his pulse upon his fingers, he reached out in to the pits of death's eyes. He could see nothing, just a void of... nothing. Knew not of when and where the nothingness started, lost. The hope of grasping an invisible life line was his lighthouse in the midst of a stormy night.

Flinging a hand out, the man felt cool material that was like a blanket of fog over his juddering knees. He inhaled sharply, twitching away from the surface. Skims the hand over it again. Clutching it. Desperately, he leans forwards on to his knees, trying to touch everything he could. He was alive, alive! There were things in the black hole he felt he was in. He wasn't alone. Not really.

Clamouring to find more things in his solitary fear, he reached to his side. He was so terrified. Didn't know why he could see the infinity of zero, didn't know which pit of hell he possibly was in. He grit his teeth together despairingly. Unexpectedly, his large-boned knuckles hit a hollow-sounding object, hard and somewhat ligneous. His unsure heart gave a little thunder-like thump of distress, but nevertheless Zoro gave a grab at the object. Hitting his wrist on the edge of the object, he hissed and seized it. Smooth. Chunky. A table...

Searching, inquiring, Zoro's hands moved like spiders on top of the table, his breaths quickened. If only, if only he could just _see. _Then he would know whether he was in a dream, if he was in reality. Whether the fact he was blind was just a stupid joke his mind was playing on him. Fuck, he wasn't even certain he wanted this to be true or not.

Anguished, the man clenched his fists, feebly thumping them down on the table. His skin brushed against something slippery, yet coarse. Without thinking, he snatched it up in his grasp, feeling it. It was as if he'd found gold. So terrified was he that anything he came across seemed to be of utmost quality, precious to the world. His world, where all things and nothing could exist together.

A styrofoam box? What the hell... He pressed the crest of his palm on to the sides.

Shitty cook.

Sanji.

Memories of that man's voice filled his head. Relaxing. The food he made with diligence. Comforting. The sound of his steps, his breathing as they fought. Safe.

Zoro wasn't sure what he felt. Anger - that these memories told him he truly was blind, he was in the harsh reality? Sadness - that he couldn't see his hands, the swords he once held with such pride? Shame - that he never realised from when he awoke till now where he was? Joy - that he was alive, and still knew those that were so close at heart?

It was all coming back to him. Sanji had left his lunch by his bed as usual, but out of spite for how he'd keep trying to hack in to his past, Zoro had left it there. Refusing to even eat dinner that was brought for him. And guilt now settled unhappily at the bottom of his gut. He understood that the chef hated it when people wasted food. Not that he had mind of what the reason was. But he felt like a criminal, if he was going to trash the meal made for him. It _was _shitty cook's stuff in the end. No matter how much he degraded the things Sanji made and did for him, he was honestly thankful. All his actions made him feel better; yet he still suspected it was out of pity. If so, why would he keep coming back after their yelling, after fights?

The blind man touched the bandages over his eyes woefully. He wondered what he meant to Sanji. A useless guy who sat around most his days? Pitiful creature who was barely human? He didn't want to be that. Zoro wanted to be strong, admirable in the chefs' undoubtedly beautiful eyes. When he had seen Sanji, that time, he remembered that the man's one uncovered eye was large, lashes thick and soft like those on a fine paintbrush. Surely, Sanji could attract all kinds of people without acting like such a mop in front of women.

He just wished the chef could know what sort of troubles he would get in to by being too near him. But selfishly, he wanted him to stay.

Carefully standing, box still in hand, Zoro made his way to the room door and opened it slowly. Stepping out in to the corridor was like a breath of fresh air. He turned to his right, took six relatively big steps, and knocked on the door he had stopped in front of. Sounds of scuffling and a squeak of a chair. The door opened, blowing a shy brush of air across his face.

"Zoro? Did you have a nightmare again? Are you alright; is there something you need?" Robin's voice.

He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again. For some reason, he couldn't find his own voice, still troubled by the shock he had when he suddenly woke up. Instead, he held up the lunch box. A spot of quietness as Robin took it in.

"Ah, that's right... You didn't eat. Would you like me to heat this up for you?"

Nod.

A slim hand took hold of his elbow and he was gently led forwards in to the psychologist's cosy office, sat down on the plush sofa as the clack and whirs of Robin's microwave reheating the food made up for the two's natural taciturn. "I didn't want to waste it," Zoro begins as a warm plate is handed to him. "But I don't want to eat it all either. Feels heavy. Share?"

"It's bad for your health to eat so late, but since you are offering, thank you, Zoro." The sharp clattering of metal against metal tells the blind man, Robin is getting cutlery. He is handed one - presumably a fork - and they eat.

"What time is it?"

"2AM."

"..."

* * *

Knocking on the door of Ward 212, Sanji entered cautiously. Still afraid that the blind man was put off by him. He was mad at himself too, Sanji was. Why did he have to bother Zoro so much? Why did he keep rattling at the cage of secrecy the patient enclosed himself in? He wanted to pull the man out, wrap his arms around him, remind him that no matter what he still had a future to live. That _he _wanted him to live.

The room held not a single soul. What did he expect? Zoro and Robin went out nearly every morning. He backed out, and went to Robin's room. Despite knowing that the two would be gone together, Sanji felt like it was his duty to check anyways. A gentleman's duty.

Peeking in to the small, double glazed window of the door, he caught a glimpse of long black hair and a white doctor's coat resting on the back of the chair where she sat. Robin was in! But... where was Zoro? He knocked, refraining the will to hammer it down and scream "WHERE IS THAT SHITTY MARIMO?", and entered.

"Good morning Robin-chwan~ How-" The chef cut himself off as he caught sight of a green haired figure strewn along the sofa of the psychologist's room. He stared blatantly. New questions popped in to his overly-energetic mind. Scandalous questions. What was he doing here? Did he spend the night in Robin's room? _With _Robin?! Did he dare lay his grubby paws on his angel?!

"He has nightmares from time to time. At times he'd wake up but calm himself down, and last night he came to my room after so." Robin read Sanji's mind, studying his expressions of horror and rage that flashed upon seeing the patient. The chef raised his eyebrows, parting his lips in an O shape in a statement of 'I see'.

The green haired man rolled over slightly in his sleep, revealing a good half of his face as he sighed in his rest. His features looked much softer as he was easing up, lips tender and skin unblemished, the creamy rice-white bandages loose over his eyes. Sanji watched, like a child in a pet store. It felt so odd whenever Sanji saw the other man with an expression other than stoic or grouchy. Or smirking. He felt a little tug at his heart when he saw Zoro looking relaxed or merry - he supposed it was that he felt happy for the troubled man. With a past like _his_... No! He shook his abruptly. No. He wouldn't think of it. After Zoro had gotten in a fit of rage... He promised himself to not think of it. Unless it was desperate. In exchange, the blonde hurriedly etched the sleeping face of Zoro in to his mind instead.

He turned and handed Robin her breakfast with a flourish, receiving a stunning smile that turned his brain in to a muddled goo of pleasure. Glanced around the room, and noticed that there were mugs with a faded, significantly nutty, mahogany brown ring running across the inner walls of each one, lined up like soldiers on the desk in front of a small microwave he'd not spotted before, wedged in the corner. Coffee. It only just struck him that the office was like Robin's home.

"My lovely, shall I take those cups down and wash them for you?" He asked, waving an all-willing hand at them.

"Ah, yes, that would be most helpful of you! Thank you." The woman brushed silky strands of midnight away from her face with dove-like hands.

He bounded over and collected the mugs enthusiastically. For Robin, anything. As he gathered them, balancing four in each hand expertly, he took in the large number of them that were there. "Robin-chwan, did you stay up all night?"

"That is true."

"You must be so tired!"

"There has been a lot to do recently. I also have to be there for the patients; they are the top priority."

Sanji bit the inside of his cheeks and pondered for a second. Robin was incredible - she'd probably pulled multiple all-nighters and yet she was still up and working diligently. Admirable as she was, she needed her rest. "How about I take your place tonight," he said invitingly. "So you can have a well-deserved break! What about that?"

"Oh, no, I couldn't do that to you, Sanji!" She raised worried fingers to her lips. "I couldn't bother you like that."

"No, it would be my pleasure! You need your beauty sleep - not that you're not beautiful enough already, Robin-chwan." He batted his eyelashes lecherously, but with no ill intention. Even if he sounded like a blasphemous flirt.

"Really, I'd be fine-"

"I'm more than capable and I learn fast! I can watch over marimo and the others. Trust me!" Letting slip his nickname for the green haired man again without a second thought, he grinned encouragingly.

"Well..."

"It'll be alright~"

"I guess I could... take just tonight off, then" She beamed, radiating as if a load had just been kicked off her shoulders by the chef. Said man sighed, a stupid smile on his face as he watched. He wiggled around happily.

"I'll be here by 10, how's that for you?"

"Perfect. I can't thank you enough for your favour, Sanji."

"Favour? Robin-chwan, I can do this anytime you wish for me to!"

Suddenly, the sound of rustling and a gruff sound of 'urgh' caught their attention. Zoro was propped up on the couch, freshly awakened form his slumber, hands feeling the edges of the sofa as he reminded himself of where he was.

"Marimo!" Sanji couldn't help but exclaim in happiness.

Zoro's head snapped to face the direction of his voice. He visibly clenched his teeth. Sanji's eyes widened and swallowed. He'd forgotten how mad the patient was at him. Slowly, the blind man turned back to face forwards from where he sat. "Robin. Training." He said monotonously, openly ignoring the chef and his being despite just reacting to the voice.

Sanji felt as though someone had taken a needle and popped his balloon heart that was once floating at the thought of being able to help Robin, the thought of staying over for the patients. It was the close equivalence of the feeling he had first felt when he saw Nami with Luffy. Too cruel, Zoro, he thought to himself as he felt the piercing emptiness in his body. Please, don't do that...

Robin walked over and helped the blind man to his feet, leading him out. "Thank you again, Sanji." She nodded politely in goodbye, and left Sanji to stand awkwardly in the room, alone.

* * *

As he exited the building of the hospital, cool breeze starting to nip at his sides, Sanji was stopped by a yell of his name. He looked up, to the sides, startled. What? Suddenly, a dark haired figure leapt out from the corner of his eye, hollering like a baboon who hadn't eaten for days - and had just spotted some fruit, namely him. The chef gave a squeal of horror and hopped back as the figure crashed to the ground beside him, leaving little cracks in the stone pavement. He stared in horror at those cracks, imagining what he could've been pummelled to if he hadn't moved.

"LUFFY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" A barely audible, but recognisable voice screamed from the distance. A new figure approached, finely muscular under a thin t-shirt and khakis. And signature hat on his head.

"Oh god, Ace! What the fuck is this?!" Sanji fumed, pointing at the crumpled mess still on the floor beside him.

His raven-haired friend ran up to him and hauled the body up from the ground. "This, as you should know," he huffed, jabbing a finger rudely at the body that was much more distinguishable now that it was off the floor. "Is my stupid brother. I guess you thought he was an attacker or something, yeah?"

"Hey Sanji!" Luffy beamed cheerfully, comically funny with the collar of his shirt nearly strangling him as Ace shook him around angrily.

The memory of Nami and Luffy together filled Sanji's mind as he petted the boy's head uncomfortably. Ace caught note of his discomfort and gently set his little brother back down on his feet, giving him a pat on his back as he whispered fondly "Go on ahead; I'll be right behind you."

As Luffy bounded away, Sanji swivelled his eyes to Ace. The taller man sighed and rubbed the back of his neck achingly. "Alright. What did Luffy do this time. Your face shrieks 'not you again' when ya see him." He said in an exasperated voice, a silent message of 'I'll make up for it' flashing in his dark eyes.

"No, he didn't really do anything..." Sanji admitted, guilty that he couldn't help but feel irritated when he thought of Nami together with the boy. The redhead was the one he'd liked for so long, after all. But he couldn't say that he loved her. Not with complete honesty.

Ace stared at the chef before him. He knew that look - it was exactly the same as the face he made after a girl had dumped him. Knowing Sanji since secondary had given him enough knowledge to understand his favourite, womanising friend's antics and expressions when different things happened. "Don't tell me... Did Luffy steal your girl or something?"

"Something like that." Sanji nodded slightly.

"What, his girlfriend Nami?"

The blonde's blue eyes widened in surprise. "You know?"

"Of course I do," Ace scoffed. "I'm his brother. And I'm a typical police boy."

"Ah."

They went quiet for a while, just gazing off to the hospital

"Hey... If you're worried about her being with Luffy, don't worry. He's a lot better than what most people think." Ace said softly.

"Hm."

"And don't say you're jealous," The man patted Sanji's cheek affectionately. "Because your eye tells me you're not."

"I think I miss her." Sanji lowered his eyes, sighing. "Even if she slaps me and kinda took advantage of me... It feels like something's missing."

"Are you a masochist? You're missing the feel of her bony witch hands smacking your face!" Ace snorted. "But I get it. Her presence has always been heavy." He caught his friend in a quick embrace and turned away. "Go find someone that's even stronger than her."

The warmth of the other man lingered a while as he walked away with a friendly wave. Sanji closed his eyes and let out a long-drawn breath. Ace was right. Someone strong. Someone that filled that gap he felt when he was alone. Why was it that the first person he thought of... was Zoro?

* * *

A touch on his arm. Cloth shifting over his body. In the realms of his sleeping void, Zoro could feel someone moving things around him. His heart kicked in, hammering away in fear as adrenaline rushed into his still immobile body that felt heavy, so heavy. Now he was awake. The gentle sound of breathing was above him. Of course, he couldn't see who it was. But he was alert, attentive. It all was so familiar - people sneaking up on him while he was asleep. With the thirst for blood.

In anguish, the blind man rashly extended his arm and clenched where he suspected the foe's throat was. Jackpot. With a vice-like grip, he dug his fingers in to the soft flesh. "Who are you." He snarled, baring his teeth under the strength he exerted on to strangling whoever it was. Zoro's skin was burning with frantic blood - red wolves pawing in and out of his muscles, whirling with power. He was going to fucking _kill _this bastard who dared to stoop low enough to attack a sleeping man, stab him, rearrange his dead face - if only he could just _see _it! He tightened his fingers around the neck in frustration, throttling his now-prey.

"S-st... op... -t's... huk-... 's... m-... e..."

That voice. That voice, that voice, _that voice. Sanji._

Dropping his hand in alarm, Zoro gave a gasp. The chokes from the other man turned in to dry rasps, uneven, forceful, on the verge of being garrotted by his hand. He felt a weight drop on top of his legs, warm and solid, raising up and down in struggled breaths. Shit, no, please no. Please don't be hurt. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it... In despair at his own actions, Zoro reached forwards, hands looking for Sanji in desperation. He felt his forearm skim over a shuddering shape, and he grabbed it forlornly. Fumbling, he felt for the person's face, stroking the smooth skin, trying to recognise them. Praying that he'd made a mistake and that it was anyone, anyone _but _Sanji.

It was Sanji. He knew that straight nose of his. He knew that hair over the man's left eye, the hot breaths that melted around him. He deep, sleek voice that murmured "Hey..." in a deathly trance. He knew... the tingles felt in their connected touch.

"Fuck!" He hissed, as though in pain. "Fuck, chef, what are you doing here?!"

A scraping cough. "I'm staying overnight... in Robin's place... hahhh..."

"No, why are you _here?!_" He barked, not letting go of the man's face, his comforting warmth.

"I wanted... to check up on you."

"I don't fucking _need _it."

"I was told you had nightmares... so I wanted to make sure-"

Angrily, he removed his hands and clumsily backed away on his bed, trying to distance himself as he pushed Sanji away. Why wouldn't he just leave him alone? Why must he be like a man wrapping a rope tightly around his neck without knowing the consequences? A rat going for the cheese on a mousetrap? "There's nothing to them." He growled.

"I... I just care, Zoro..."

"Stop saying that!" The green haired man clutched his head in emotional torment. "You don't mean it! You just want to fucking know about me and then vanish!"

"No, that's not-"

"Why do you keep doing this to me?! Can't you just stay away? Can't you see it's better that way? Don't you know I'm not worth what you call 'caring' for?!"

His honest thoughts were starting to show; his fear that Sanji would leave, his fear that Sanji would be hurt, his thoughts of himself being worthless.

"I DO care! You ARE worth it! Don't you dare say that again, you jackass!" The chef yelled.

"In what way? I've done nothing good in my entire god-damned life!"

"Because you have feelings! You have a heart, and hearts can be moved to do good things!" Zoro felt the mattress sink sharply as Sanji planted a fist in to the bed in vexation. "You... You don't need to change yourself. You're fine the way you are. You just got to see, let your heart know that you're more than however lowly you think of yourself, you shitty marimo."

"I don't have a heart." Zoro said dully. "I'm just a fucking demon who never have had one, a heart." Memories of his part were starting to seep in again, smothering him, filling his nothingness with regret, torture.

"Of course you do, stupid." The chef suddenly said softly. Zoro twitched and tried to move away as he felt a hand laid over the left side of his chest. He felt his pulse exploding in to millions per second. "I can feel it. But you don't mean in a literal sense do you? Well guess what. Your actual heart is connected to the heart you're talking about.

"That's why you feel anger. At me, like when I keep trying to find out about you. Happiness, when you're teasing me. Fear, when I woke you up by accident."

It hit Zoro then. He hadn't realised it until he heard those words. That _he _was the one who cared too much about the chef. It spiked his heart like a gunshot. He troubled himself with worries for that prick of a chef so much it hurt, made him feel like his insides were being played with. Made him sick. Sick with attachment.

Why did he let that happen? It tore him apart, realising it. Knowing that it would be impossible for them, because of him. Because of who he was. He felt a thick swell in his chest, yet didn't feel whole. Eyeless eyes burning, Zoro felt a salty wetness slide down his cheek. He reached up to hide it, but another hand wiped it away first.

"Sadness counts too. Tell me what you're thinking," Sanji whispered. "Zoro."

He let out a stifled choke, as many more tears fell. He was breaking, shattering, because of a single man who had never once hurt him. What was this feeling? Why couldn't he hold his shit together? "Hell happened," he wrapped his arms around his own chest, latching his hands on to the material of his clothes. "And I was found."

* * *

_He wandered along the red road. The ground was like there were millions of ugly red roses blooming and morphing under his small feet. The stench was putrid, gagging him. He wasn't alone, no. He was surrounded by people, But they lay face down in the filthy ground all around him. They didn't even lift their heads to point and laugh at his unusual hair colour, call him 'demon child'._

_ His heart frantically beating, he gripped his treasured sword by his side as he broke out in to a sprint, the redness splattering up his thin legs, crying out desperately. "Mother! Father!" No reply sounded in his little ears. Why would no one answer him? Why were they all... asleep? Was this what mother called... dead?_

_ He was petrified. He didn't know what death meant, other than a sleep that no one woke from. He didn't want to die. He was afraid that after he fell in to that sleep, good things would finally happen and he wouldn't be there for it. He was afraid of what death felt like, that he would lose everything that he'd already lost once again._

_ Scampering through twists and turns of the blackened houses, he was lost in the village he knew his whole life through exploring it during the night. He knew every nook and cranny, each rat hole and each hungry soul. It was no different today - exactly the same - but for some reason he couldn't find anything. What WAS he looking for?_

_ He stopped. In front of him was a vast man, rugged and covered in the red stuff like everyone else in the village. Except this guy was standing, and staring down at him with a twisted grin on his filthy face. The man was wearing a black coat that flapped around him, surrounded in evilly matching... black smoke. This image would forever be carved in to the young boy's memory._

_ The man held out a huge hand. "I've been waiting for you, little boy." he crowed. "You'll be a wonderful addition to my team. I'm going to give you a job."_

_"NO!" The green haired boy shouted, gripping the handle of his sword. It was a beautiful sword - too big for him as of current - pure white, clearer than the spirit of the girl who entrusted it to him. His best friend._

_"What a feisty kid you are." The man bent down, going for a grab at him._

_"GET AWAY FROM ME!" He drew his sword, slashing at the hand, leaving a thin line of more red across the man's palm. The man glimpsed at the crack in his cut skin and cackled. _

_"Perfect. You'll be a good one. Boy, did you really think you'd be able to survive on your own?"_

_"Of course, you bastard!"_

_"You'd do much better with me, kid."_

_"Liar!"_

_ Suddenly, the world around him swirled as a sharp hit dug in to the back of his neck. It was like gravity had gotten stronger, as he watched the world flip on to it's side and turn black._

_"You can help me put people to sleep, boy."_

* * *

_ Now he held a red smeared sword. It hummed pleasingly in his hand, as did the other two by his hip did. He'd collected them over the time, as he was out on missions to help put people... to sleep. But one of them, his own white sword, it also hummed with sadness. _

_ He dragged a hand under his piercing, dark eyes, leaving something warm and wet on his skin. He heard harsh clapping behind him, and he turned to see who it was. It was him - the one who kidnapped him, the one who took him in, the one who turned him in to the crimson-dyed creature he was now._

_"Sir... are they really sleeping?"_

_ The bulky man chuckled and shook his head. "It's about time you knew. You're not 'boy' anymore."_

_ The green-haired lad sheathed his sword and stared blankly at the figure that laid by his feet. Under him was the same ugly blooming red roses he'd seen from back then._

_"He's what you'd call dead, Zoro."_


	10. Chapter 10

**Whew, what a tiring week it has been!**

**I was planning to finish and update with this chapter yesterday, but I didn't finish it on time so now I feel guilty ):**

**Hope you like this chapter; where things start falling in to place!**

**Thank you for the reviews once again~ It's great to see you guys are getting the feel of the story xD**

* * *

Sanji's lashes fluttered fleetingly as he awoke with a start. God, his neck hurt. He reached back and massaged it, twisting his head from side to side as he heard mauled sounds of cracking coming from his tired bones. Thin rays of sunlight were just cutting through the grey dawn clouds outside the window, blocking the horizon from the visible eye. Looking aside to where the hospital bed was, he saw the green-haired figure curled up under pristine white sheets, protective, so that his face was obscured. Ah, that's right. He'd stayed with the marimo the whole night and fell asleep on the chair...

* * *

_"Please... please... don't tell Robin. I can't..."_

_ The blind man's words echoed through his ears as Sanji sat in a stunned silence. Zoro... a child assassin. He couldn't fully feel the past sink in to his skin. He could only think; 'no wonder... no wonder...!'. And yet he still didn't understand why the man was blind. _

_ He felt his frame shivering. Did he feel fear? Now that he knew what Zoro was like? Now that he realised, that the patient he'd regarded as a friend continued killing; even after being told his victims were truly dead? No. Rather, he felt guilt. He couldn't quite grasp why he felt guilt. In his unconsciousness, he was troubled by the thought that such a thing could happen to others. Why not... him? Why Zoro? He wanted to protect him with those pale hands of his, stomp on _that man_ until his mouth sunk back in to his head... so he could never speak again..._

_ With a shaking hand, he reached out and fumbled for Zoro's. Under watery moonlight, Sanji could see the patient was pressing the heels of his palms in to the dips of his eyes, teeth pressed together as if trying to hold back a scream of agony. Instead, the blonde tentatively touched the man's arm. A quiet choke slipped from Zoro's lips. "It's OK... It's fine, we'll all be fine. We can find him, you idiot. We will." He said with uncalled-for fondness._

_ "Don't... It's not safe..."_

_ "Trust me. Who do you think I am? I can fight and be on par with you, without even going all out!" Sanji smiled in assurance._

_ "I... urgh..."_

_ "Hey, you alright, marimo? You ought to rest... You need it."_

_ In a motherly fashion, Sanji ran his hands through Zoro's choppy green hair. It was soft, like moss, ironically. He stroked at the smoothly uneven texture, soothing Zoro, soothing himself. His heart felt as if it was shattering, watching the man before him; broken, spiralling down in his darkness... alone. He wanted to give him everything, make up for all things happened to him. Give him the love he deserved, that he never received._

_ The patient gave a cracked sigh, and sank in to his covers. "Dammit, shitty chef... Fucking dammit..."_

* * *

Zoro must be tired, Sanji thought to himself, as the nights' events reformed within his mind. Tired of all that shit he had to go through. He exhaled heavily, and ran a hand over the blanket tucked tightly around the blind man, along his strong back. He only wished for his well being now. Not for a fight, not even for a conversation... as long as Zoro could be cured of his trauma, the leech sucking the life out of him. His eyes widened as he suddenly remembered their conversation. '_"Sadness counts too. Tell me what you're thinking," Sanji whispered. "Zoro."' _

He had called Zoro by his name. For once. For that one moment."Zoro..." he mumbled to himself, and felt a carnation pink flush seep in to his cheeks. The word, name, on his tongue felt like a hard boiled sweet; in the way of his beautifully straight teeth, sugary temptation melting in his mouth as he rolled it around, over and over, trying for the taste on each side.

A feathery knock on the door startled Sanji. He flicked his gaze over to the door, to see an early-morning Robin peeping in. Robin! His angel! He jumped to his feet, an idiotic grin growing on his face. "Robin-chwan! Good morning; how was your night?"

The psychologist simply smiled in her mysterious fashion and held a finger to her lips, signalling for the blonde to lower his excited volume. Sanji visibly shrunk back in to his shoulders, ashamed. "How was he last night?" The woman whispered. "He usually wakes up early on his own, and so when I come in to take him training he is up already. How odd, to see him still asleep at such a time." She chuckled fondly.

"He... had a tiring night." Sanji rubbed his neck thoughtfully. He'd keep Zoro's words close at heart, if it was what the man wished. If it was his way of watching over others. Yet Sanji had a nagging sensation telling him that Robin would one day need to know. How hauntingly special he felt, being told by Zoro himself about his past before the gorgeous psychologist knew. Him, Sanji, first. He couldn't help but feel guilty pride. Him, of all people.

Robin said nothing to this, and just looks to Zoro's sleeping body almost sadly, folding her arms across her busty chest. "If, by any chance," She drums her fingers on her arm. "Zoro was to tell you something about himself, his past... I'd like for you to tell me, please." It wasn't because she was nosy. She needn't know for her own personal use. She, like Sanji, wanted to hunt down whoever had hurt the man that to her was like the son she never had. Her love for him was the love of a parent and friend, one who cared about each minuscule detail and his happiness. But she also needed to know if anyone else held knowledge of such information...

Nodding in understanding, Sanji, however, does not tell Robin about his night. He would listen to the pleads of the subdued patient.

* * *

Sanji sat a while longer after the psychologist left. The chef had ceased looking at his phone's watch a long time ago now, leaving it and his kitchen duties in the back of his head. He loved his job for sure; he loved the exhilarating heat flaming against his hot forehead and skin slick with the sweat produced from the fruits of his labour, exotic scents filling his nose as they fused to create heaven upon a dish... but he wanted to wait until Zoro woke up. He felt like a bedraggled wife awaiting her husband to rouse from the effects of anaesthetics from a surgery. The sun had risen now, saturating vivid russet browns, yellow golds and wine reds in their richest hues under its' glow. Autumn was coming fast. It all seemed so perfect, too perfect. Just waiting for something to happen.

"Urgh..."

Sanji whipped around from the window to see Zoro propping himself up on his pillow. He unconsciously ran over, letting his feet take him where his mind refused to cooperate at the sight of the - he'd just started to notice - masculinely handsome man. The blind man's head jerked in his direction. "... The fuck are you doing here..."

The chef reeled back mid-step. "Excuse me? Am I not allowed in your room, shitty marimo?" His lip curled in irritation, giving him a face of disgust.

"No."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks."

It took a while for the blonde to understand what the patient meant by "No thanks". He blushed deeply. It angered him more that he felt himself reacting in such a way at the thought of performing acts of intimacy with the bitchy moss head rather than at the brash comment, causing him to redden more.

"SHUT UP!" He shrieked, glad the blind man couldn't see his face, or he'd be up for teasing. Zoro smirks and lets his head hang loose. Sanji watches, petting his own cheeks in hope of getting rid of the burning warmth.

"Oi, about last night..." Zoro began, picking at the sheets like they were the strings of a guitar.

"I won't tell anyone," The blonde cut in. He shoved his hands in to his pockets. "But you need to let Robin know."

Looking at the green haired man expectantly, Sanji studied his expression. Zoro pressed his lips together, forming a thin, hard line, and scrunched up the bed sheets like paper, releasing and gripping in an agitated pattern. He stayed silent, not wanting to admit it was true. Yet it was one of those things he'd pondered for a long time already; whether or not to tell the psychologist.

Sanji huffed, and turned on a dress-shoed heel. It would be useless to try push Zoro any further. "Trust us. See you at lunch, or breakfast, if you're staying." He said, and left.

* * *

As suspected, Zoro and Robin had vanished by the time he'd returned for serving breakfast. They were, however, there for lunch, and now Sanji sat in Zoro's ward once again, watching the blind man eat. The blonde felt as though he was in a dream. They had once again been reduced to their silence, but today there was an edge to it. Tension's daggers were hovering over the two ever since Sanji had told the patient he needed to tell the psychologist. They were both waiting, anticipating the moment where either one of them would say something, anything to break the apprehension. What were they afraid of? What would they say? That the patient would snap, that there was nothing to say about the chef's comment?

A light knock caused the two to twitch as it severed their fragile soundlessness. In an instant, the elegant psychologist was in the room, and to his surprise, ushering Sanji out. "R-Robin-chwan?!" He squealed as he was nudged out the door, frantically glancing back and forth from the woman to Zoro. Robin smiled reassuringly - a delicate smile, her eyes shining in the sunlight coming from the window behind - and Sanji dissolved in to putty in her hands. "I'm sorry, I need to speak to Zoro. Forgive me, Sanji." With a final coax, the poor man was out and with the door shut in his alarmed face.

* * *

Zoro listened with a perturbed expression settled on his features as the psychologist closed the door behind the chef. What now? He couldn't think of anything he had done that caused any sort of trouble - not recently, at least. The last time was when he'd socked a doctor in the jaw for trying to force his bandages off him. He'd given him an almighty jab along with it as a souvenir. Personally, Zoro thought he deserved it.

"How was last night, Zoro?" Robin's soft voice drew him away from his recollections.

"Fine." He grumbled, somewhat thankful that she'd broken through his and Sanji's tension.

The light clacking of heels growing louder told him that she was getting closer. They stopped beside him, and he heard her sit with a muted thud, her cotton-light scent wafting around them. "I heard you had a 'tiring' night from a different source though." She pressed on. "Is there something you need to tell me about?"

That damned cook. Zoro flicked his large-knuckled fingers irritably. What should he say? It was undeniable that Robin really ought to know. But how else could he protect them, the people here that he regarded as family? Sanji's voice resounded in his mind. _"Trust us." _Yes, he trusted them. It wasn't that he didn't. He trusted them with his body so much that he'd let Chopper or Robin take a hundred blood samples from him as long as they knew what they were doing. He only wanted them... safe.

It was like Sanji had said. Robin needed to know. She and the others... they had done so much for him; giving him food and water, healing him, placing a roof over his unworthy head. It was about time he let them know who he truly was. That they had been keeping a demon within their vicinity for so long. A demon... now with a heart that beat stronger for a princess of a chef than any other.

With words that felt as if they didn't quite fit together, Zoro stumbled out the shell he'd so tightly encased himself in for the last thirteen months of his life he'd been in the hospital, finally revealing his story to the psychologist.

* * *

Still outside the ward, Sanji was leaning against the wall just beside the crack between door and frame. He couldn't hear a word, but in his heart, he knew what was being spoken of. Smiling to himself, he pushed off the wall that divided him and Zoro in to two spaces meant as one, and headed back to the kitchen to help wash the dishes.

* * *

Sanji walked to the door of the hospital, humming softly to himself. Terracotta had been pleased with his cooking and how well he had been getting along with the other patients. He couldn't help but absorb the praise with pride, yet feel his face heat up shyly. He was a modest person - modest, but confident.

"Sanji,"

The blonde turned to see the psychologist right behind him. He felt an odd shiver chase down his arms. When had she gotten there?! Up close, she was quite imposing; towering over him with an approximate ten centimetre difference, her Prussian-blue eyes large and looking down at him as if in judgement of his every move. He felt as if every cell in his body had frozen in to frosty flakes as she places a foreboding hand on his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me? About Zoro?" She said quietly, chillingly retaining her gentle smile.

"A-ah, about t-that... ahaha... I promised Zoro I wouldn't tell..." The chef laughed shakily. What on earth was this feeling he was getting from Robin? He'd sworn she was a mild, sweet angel... at least, he thought.

Robin sighed and combed her slender fingers through her hair. "Sanji... I asked not for the information, but rather for your safety."

Sanji's eyes widened. Safety?

"You already know about Zoro, so I believe you ought to know why you need to be more aware of the things around you now. Tonight at 9:30, please meet me at the Rumbar bar, just off the north pier. I will show you, along with an accomplice of mine." She said quietly, so only he could hear her. Another shiver danced along Sanji's skin in a complicated ballet suite, his hairs raising. Something was going on. Even Robin's milky white face was ashen in foreshadowing of the information to come.

He nodded, understanding the gravity of her words. He could feel it - not just from the intense prickles in his skin, but also in his warily beating heart. "I'll take an early leave from the Baratie tonight. I'll try my best not to be late, Robin-chwan."

"Thank you, Sanji." The psychologist brushed her hair over a shoulder, gazing off in to the distance as if lost. "Thank you."

* * *

"Mademoiselle, your lobster bisque?"

"Oh, thank you! That looks wonderful!"

"Of course; the finest lobster meat just for you, my dear."

The woman's husband glared angrily at Sanji in seething silence as the chef placed the bowl of soup before her, fluttering his golden lashes provocatively. "May you have a most wonderful dinner tonight, mademoiselle." He lifted her delicate hand, bejewelled with lavish gems on shining silver rings and bangles, and brushed his lips atop her skin of petals. Her cheeks shone in embarrassment as Sanji raised his head, aureate hair enticingly shadowing his well-featured face by the light of the table candles, ornate as her bijouterie.

He walked away, spinning the cocoa-brown tray on his finger, proud he'd found such an elegant lady. There were many diners tonight, the brightly lit restaurant crowding with more and more high-class families looking for a seat, bustling waiters and their abusively rude chefs. The sounds of merry chattering filled the hall like carols as Sanji wafted from table to table, serving with his elegant flair. However, there was one table he couldn't help but continuously glimpse over to, questioning.

There was an ominously dressed pair sat inconspicuously in the far corner of the restaurant, still wearing their heavy black coats lined with fur; one, pallid and flimsy under the bulky jacket, had curled snow-blonde hair, his large nose protruding rather threateningly out from the wisps. The other was the opposite, heavily built with the coat doing nothing but accentuating his size. His frizzy violet hair rested solidly on his back as he leant back into the Baratie's plush chairs, thrones for all who entered.

They were an odd pair, they were, but no one seemed to notice them, carrying on with their rich men's talk and tittering at lavish stories of their personal lush wineries and excelling companies. "Maybe they're from out of town..." Sanji thought wistfully, his dreams of the adventures in All Blue dusting across his unsettled mind. Maybe one day, after he'd opened his own restaurant, he could go travel and see the world...

* * *

At exactly 9:30PM, Sanji slipped through the doors of the Rumbar bar, as promised, for his rendezvous with Robin. It was a quiet bar, juxtaposing the hustle bustle of the Baratie that night. The lights were turned down dim, casting alluring shadows along the lengths of the traditional wooden floor planks, only a rare few businessmen whispering as they discussed projects. A magnificent grand piano was illuminated on a raised platform as an excruciatingly tall man with an explosive afro soundly played a relaxing song on it, his bony white fingers soaring over the keys.

The barman, a fully grown man who's face had the naïvety of a child's with many a dozen scars scratched along his forehead and cheekbones, smiled welcomingly at Sanji as he made his way across the bar. "A drink, sir?" the barman asked. 'Laboon', his name tag read.

"Any Merlot?"

"How does Partager sound?"

"One glass."

"Coming right up, sir!"

He took the glass of wine and sipped it aristocratically, letting the fruity taste blanket his tongue. "I'll put that on your tab, sir." Laboon smiled, polishing a champagne flute.

In a secluded spot veiled in darkness where the hazy lighting didn't quite reach, Robin's arm waved out at him and he grinned, making his way through chairs here and there. There was a man sitting with her, Sanji noticed. He couldn't quite put his finger on who, but he felt like he knew them. And here he thought he'd finally get some alone time with Robin... He stopped at the table, and his jaw dropped, as did the other man's.

"ACE?"

"SANJI? YOU'RE THAT GUY?"

A slightly baffled Robin looked from one man to the other. "You two know each other already? Perfect. No need for introductions." The men eyed each other out in shock as the blonde slid in to a seat beside the psychologist, slipping his glass on the table beside a barbarically huge bottle of beer that was half empty. Ace's, of course. What the hell was Ace doing here anyways, with Robin? How did they know each other?

"Sanji, Ace is a friend of mine doing detective work who is helping me find out about Zoro's past. About his job, you must presumably know already, yes?" Robin chuckled as the chef shot an angry glare of 'you-didn't-tell-me-that-you-bastard' at Ace who stared at the floor evasively, then back at him, eyes dark and serious, boring holes in Sanji's mind.

"I'm surprised you found out so much about Zoro despite having nothing to do him," Ace said, folding his arms over and leaning against the table with them, bringing the other two closer to him. "First of all, let me tell you about a village massacre that happened eleven years ago.

"This village, Shimotsuki Village, once held a hundred and ten people. Unbeknownst to them, below their cosy village was a vast pool of oil, snuggled up deep underground. One night, the entire village was slaughtered, dragged out on the streets and their houses burned, with only the fuzzy evidence of a man in a black coat walking away in to the distance... and apparently, a few dark days later, an infamous mob moved in, turning the ghost village in to an oil farm."

Sanji shivered. He knew this was just the beginning, but he felt as if General Winter had slipped through the walls and was now massaging his shoulders with icicle hands as his dread grew. It wasn't even the season of winter. "That's... terrifying..." He whispered. "But... Zoro...?" He couldn't see how the village massacre was connected to the blind man. Was it him, who did this all?

"Quite a few months ago, I met Zoro." Robin spoke this time. "When I first found him, he was at a pier. I watched from a distance as he, badly injured with his shirt almost soaked with blood... no doubt not only his... slowly pulled himself across a boardwalk from a dingy boat.

"I was stunned. I didn't know why he did not simply stand and walk across. I was just on my way home from work, so having nothing to do, I hid behind a building as he felt his way along the boardwalk. When he made it on to land, once again he just pulled himself along the floor... I wondered if his legs were hurt, but I saw them help push him along. At one moment, he turned his head, and I saw his eyes were closed. I then figured... he was blind.

"As a psychologist, a doctor... I couldn't bear it anymore. A sightless man struggling for safety. I couldn't just look away. I ran up to him, and noticed he had a haramaki around his stomach, securing three swords to his side. He was dangerous, but I needed to take him somewhere safe. Luckily we weren't too far off from the hospital, so I carried him through the rain, back where Chopper treated him for me. After a bit of a struggle, he realised it was better to stay in the hospital. I guess he gradually came to trust me after I returned his swords... and we fell in to routine where I'd take him to my villa so he could train with them.

"That night, as I took Zoro back to the hospital, I took note of the name of the small vessel, the time it was and the date. I was curious, and as I knew Ace from how he had to constantly bring his little brother to the hospital for getting in to fights, I requested his help in the investigation. We searched through reports of boats that docked at the pier that day under the name of 'Yami', and traced back on its' path. It lead us back to Shimotsuki village... the now oil farm... and also the mob's headquarters. They were known to be highly powerful, so strong that even the police force and marines could not move them.

"We went on to look for files on the mob, wondering if that man was really connected to the mob. It was difficult; their name was unknown, and we were starting to head too deep in to the private files. However, Ace managed to get his hands on other cases suspected to be of this mob... Cases where households and, rarely, small villages were murdered, robbed of their money, but with their children's bodies missing. Suspected kidnapping - for slavery. Like Zoro... kidnapped, to be used."

* * *

Sanji stared in horror at the beautiful woman as she looked to him expectantly, waiting for the words to sink in, for him to connect the stories... with Zoro's past. Could it be? Could it just be? That Shimotsuki was Zoro's village - burned down with every civilian dead? That the man who kidnapped Zoro... was really part of the mob, ridding the village so they could get the oil beneath? Took the green-haired boy to use as a slave... a child assassin?! The bits and pieces were suddenly starting to fit together like a bloody mess of a jigsaw. A disgusting, warped jigsaw played in the hands of _that man _and the gang. But they had no true, solid proof. Not until Zoro was willing to confirm their predictions for them.

"But Robin-chwan... Wasn't the entire village of Shimotsuki... wiped out?" He asked faintly. How could everyone be murdered, but with the attention-grabbing _green _haired boy left alive?

"Yeah," said Ace, butting in. "That's what the records say. Yet there was a rumour surrounding that village that there was a small, green haired boy who was long forgotten, having been teased so much by his own village about his strange hair that he became known as 'demon child'. It went so far, so bad, that his parents were forced to hide him away, and he was soon a thing of the past. People thought he had died. Sound familiar, Sanji?"

Zoro's tale of his past whirled through his mind as he felt his heart sink, drowning in fear. '_He was surrounded by people, But they lay face down in the filthy ground all around him. They didn't even lift their heads to point and laugh at his unusual hair colour, call him 'demon child'.' _Sanji clamped a hand over his mouth as he felt his stomach lurch, sweat starting to form on the bridge of his nose. His head pounded mercilessly as he took sharp breaths, his eyes dilated in pure terror. Zoro... the sole survivor because of the discrimination against him... but taken in to a living hell.


	11. Chapter 11

**Continuing from the last chapter!**

**I'm really cut for time now, urgh... late to post this chapter, again. Gahhh, I suck**

**I'd like to thank the reviewers for the beautiful comments once again, and a particular one from the last chapter stuck with me for the past few days... thank you so much... I can't even begin express how lucky I feel to have you guys simply reading my story.**

**多謝，大家。**

**Oh, and I've always loved doing this, so you guys might like to try pick out the literary devices I've kinda used unconsciously! /winkwink**

* * *

With shaky hands, Sanji raised the glass to his lips as the syrupy alcohol slid down his asphyxiated throat, the wine no longer sweet in his mouth but rather a burning bitterness. His terrified eyes wandered over Robin and Ace as they watched him expectantly, waiting for even the briefest comment, the feeble light of Rumbar bar creating malicious contours on their faces. This was the most intense talk he'd ever had in his life, Sanji. One of them, at least. The chef was feeling so shocked, he was starting to let his mind scavenge about hysterically; he wanted to just laugh and run away, he wanted to crawl on his hands and knees to the gutter and cry because his heart hurt so much. It hurt so much... for Zoro.

"But... what's this got to do with me? My safety?" He asked, looking at Robin for an answer. She, in turn, tilted her sharp chin to Ace, indicating that she wanted him to talk.

"You see, we've actually been tracking down this mob for years," Ace nodded, mindlessly picking up his bottle of beer and swirling it around so a little whirlpool formed in the flax seed coloured liquid, fading away as quickly as it appeared when he stopped. "It's hard to get any info on them. Just nine months ago, we finally managed to get an undercover to, well, infiltrate their group, working as an assistant under their doctor.

"He reports that they've recently started getting active. Doesn't know why, of course, seeing he's a newcomer so getting them to trust him is gonna take a long while. He doesn't even know their name. He suspects they're looking for something... valuable, because he's overheard they've dispatched some of the higher ranking men to this town."

Sanji felt a weight in his chest pummel. What if... they found Zoro? In fact, they could just be looking for him! A chill raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Was it that Zoro was in their city on a mission? But if Robin found him bloodied and hurt... maybe he was escaping? Oh god, what would they do if they found him then? They would kill him. They would cut off his head and hang it on their wall as decoration. No, they would slowly torture him, laugh at his lack of sight, cut off one limb at a time, force him to watch them kill another village...!

Robin watched the blonde intently with her sharp eyes. "It is as you think; they might just be looking for Zoro." She said, reading his mind through his face and posture. Sanji swallowed thickly.

"Then Zoro... it's dangerous..."

"The gang may use people who know Zoro against him. Danger is behind not only Zoro, but us too."

Sanji felt the taste of metal in his mouth as he bit his tongue anxiously. He tried to picture that man in his mind. That one in the black coat as described by Ace, the one who kidnapped Zoro. Black coat... Black coat...! The men at his restaurant, shady looking in their heavy back coats with fur. He felt the colour drain from his face. Panicked, his eyes darted from one point of the room to the next. His vision was trembling as if in an earthquake - like his hands that vibrated as he lifted his hand to his cheek. Impossible. He couldn't just judge people by their appearances. It was wrong. You can't judge a book by it's cover. Remembering that first time he'd met Zoro, he felt a bubble in the back of his mouth where it connected to his oesophagus that threatened to make him spill tears. Marimo was a bitch back then. But he was, _is_, the most amazing person on the inside, for sure.

If anything was to happen to Zoro, Sanji didn't know what he would do. But now he had to protect him.

He touched's Ace's arm worriedly. "Ace, I saw two suspicious looking guys wearing black coats, lined with fur. Do..._ they_ all wear dark coats?"

The dark haired man glanced at the psychologist who had a matching grim expression, eyebrows knitted together. "Uh, according to our undercover, only the higher rankings wear black coats to match their boss. What did they look like?"

"Tall, black coats with expensive looking fur... O-One with long, curly white-blonde hair... looks kinda sick... and the other who's really buff, purple hair?"

Sanji jumped as Ace slammed his palms down on the table, standing with shaking shoulders. His eyes were huge, mouth open in a gasp of horror. Sanji felt as if all the air in the room had been sucked out as all eyes stared at Ace. Even the pianist stopped to glance over his bony shoulder in surprise. For what felt like an hour rather than a minute, every single body in the bar was frozen in their spot - strangers, bartender, Sanji, everything - before Ace whipped round and tore his leather jacket off the back of his chair.

"Ace...?" Robin prompted uneasily.

"We're going, _now._" Ace hissed through clenched teeth, flinging his jacket over his back as he stomped out the bar in his hard, buckled boots, smacking the pianist on his spine heavily in an attempted friendly goodbye, but he was clearly too pent up to even look humane. Sanji felt that same anxiety crawl over his skin as he bit his lip is fear, looking over at Robin who had already grabbed her purse and was leaving the table.

Draining his glass of wine with a cringe, he chased after them, following Ace out to the cramped parking lot just outside. The headlights of a sleek red Ferrari California flashed as Ace stormed up to it, practically ripping the door off its' hinges in a rush to get it open. Sanji raised his brows in awe. Dammit, Ace was really getting ahead of him, managing to even afford a _Ferrari._

"Only two seats, but you gotta wedge in between us for now, Sanji." The detective said in a low voice, ushering Robin in first, before giving his friend a quick shove in the small of his back. Sanji automatically slid in, his long, slender legs getting slightly tangled in the scuttle as Ace jumped in before he could sit his rear down on the rich leather seats. Robin simply stared ahead, her face stony and expressionless when Sanji looked to her again.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Sanji tried to speak in a calm voice, but it only came out half strangled. Ace started up the car, engines humming and revving to life, and hurtling to an insane volume as they shot out the car park so fast the chef swore he could've heard a sonic boom, his head thrown back from the force.

Never taking his eyes off the road, Ace snarled as he gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles faded to a sickening white. "God, blondie... that was their fucking _reaper _of a doctor and their strongest hand-to-hand combat fighter!"

* * *

The car drifted round the bend and up the hill, screeching to a stop outside the Thousand Sunny hospital with Sanji clinging on to the backs of Robin and Ace's headrests, unused to travelling at such speeds. He wasn't sure anymore whether his nails were digging so painfully in to the luxurious material because he feared for his own life that Ace seemed to be playing with in his palm, or because he feared that Zoro really was in danger.

Throwing the door open, Ace stepped out, grabbing Sanji's hand and pulling him out roughly. His eyes were dark under the night sky, not a single glint of light reflected off the deep irises. "Come on, Sanji. Wake up. We're in deep shit here." The chef nodded violently, soft hair bobbing up and down. The three poured in to the hospital, surging up to the second floor and in to Robin's office. The hospital was slightly eerie at such time of night; like an insane artist had covered every surface in midnight blue leaving pale silver marks here and there where the moonlight managed to seep through the tree leaves outside. As they entered Robin's office, Sanji stopped. Zoro. Why was only Zoro on his mind?

He turned and tried to sneakily slip past Robin behind him, but she blocked him. Looking up in worry, Sanji twitched as his eyes connected with the woman's cold stare. If people could shrink under her gaze, the chef felt as though he'd have been reduced to a speck of dust in a second. "A-Ah, Robin-chwan, I felt I needed to check on Zoro..." He admitted.

She shook her head. "I already have. He is fine... for now."

Sanji blinked slowly and felt his lips twist in to a pout. It wasn't that he didn't trust Robin on what she said, but he wanted to see Zoro nevertheless. He shook the feeling off and walked back in to her office. Robin followed suit, and put a soft hand on his shoulder. "Sanji. We mustn't tell Zoro about this - any of this. He may go after them... and we can't let him get hurt any more..." She said quietly as she closed the door behind them. "I know you and Zoro are quite close now, but... for him. Please."

"Of course," Sanji said without a second thought. For Zoro... That's right. If Zoro's way of protecting them was to not say a word about his past up till today, then so shall he. He would protect Zoro in silence. That marimo didn't need any more of that pain he'd felt for so long... because he, Sanji, would make up for it. The cook pressed his hand to his chest and sighed.

"Hello? Hey, Smokey, big guy. Look-" The blonde turned to see Ace trying to speak down the phone to this 'Smokey', only to be cut off by a load of angry rambling from the other end in a bunch of words he couldn't quite catch. "No, wait, shut it! The Shimotsuki Village case! Mob! Highers! _IN TOWN!_"

The phone went quiet. Then very faintly, Sanji picked up the two single words that came out in a gravelly voice. "Oh shit."

"Smokey, we need some security here in T.S.H.," Ace said, looking at the psychologist who pinched her index finger and thumb together, close to her left eye, hinting for less. He nodded and continued to speak in to the mobile. "Just a few yeah? We can't raise suspicion. Especially since Zoro's senses are so finely tuned. Y'know, less is more. We need some that can pose as workers here, so send some strong ones."

More grumbling from the phone.

"You can get them in by tomorrow? Perfect. Yeah... Kalifa and Kaku?!" Ace's eyes widened as he spoke of their names. "Holy crap. Ok. Ok. Thanks old man." He hung up, shoving his phone in to his pants pocket as he rubbed his temples. "Holy crap," He repeated.

Sanji walked over and slowly rested an arm around the muscular man's neck. "Hey man. Who's this 'Kalifa' and 'Kaku'?"

"Only two of our most powerful agents in our force." Ace groaned. "They can be quite troublesome, especially Kalifa. God, she's such a bitch."

"SHE?" Sanji tightened his clasp around Ace's neck. A woman! He hoped she was sexy. Slender, or maybe with hair tied back in a cute way... He lasciviously licked his lips. The detective under his arm glared at him in disgust and shoved him off, chuckling. "Get serious, you idiot." Ace rolled his eyes, ruffling the chef's golden hair fondly. "Robin, those two will definitely do their job well. Tell Zoro that they're... a new assistant and a new cleaner, if he asks. Don't worry, woman. I know you care most about your 'little boy'."

The psychologist smiled sadly and dipped her head, letting her long hair shelter her face. Why did _they_ have to come back and be such a threat to her 'son', Zoro? She wished that one day, he would be able to live on his own in such an intense city. A bird can never be kept in their cage forever, no matter how safe it is. And yet it hurt, knowing that he would venture out on his own and forget her, his 'mother'.

* * *

Sanji leaned back in to the car seat, chewing his lip as he watched the street lights on the opposite side of the window steak past. After a while longer of just sitting in Robin's office discussing security and cameras, the psychologist had hurried the two men out of her office insisting that they needed their sleep. Which was true - with Ace's rather hilarious narcoleptic sleep disorder, causing him to suddenly fall asleep which ended up in him knocking his head on to the table as he spoke - and that Robin herself needed her rest.

"Don't you think it's dangerous to drive such a pricey car with your narcolepsy?" Sanji sniggered as the memory rose from his brain. Ace scoffed and flipped his middle finger up at him as the blonde laughed to himself. The chef felt the familiar glow of happiness as he stuck out his tongue out childishly. He'd missed those old days in high school; everything went smooth as silk, though he and Ace's school records were dotted with detentions for causing scrabbles in and out of school, he had the ladies, he didn't care about no shit, he could even lounge around the stairwells the whole day smoking and still attain one of the top marks in his class. Not that the top marks were that high anyways.

He wished everything could be carefree once were getting so scary, so dark and melancholic. In this century, wandering the streets were no longer safe, no one was 'pure' anymore. Nothing was right, only wrong, extremities.

The blonde closed his eyes. Was it that he'd brought the fear upon himself? For continuously trying to get Zoro to tell him? That he was slowly, gradually feeling as if he wanted to be beside him for the rest of eternity - this emotion he himself he didn't understand at all? It was, it was... but would that mean he wished he'd never met the blind man?

Sanji sighed headily, turning as he drew the car window down. The prickling cold air struck his hot cheek as he tilted his head to the side. Oh, what he'd do for a cigarette now... but it rude to smoke, especially in Ace's glorious Ferrari. He watched as each silhouetted tree along the road traveled further and further in to the horizon. The gently spiked ferns on them reminded him of Zoro. Reaching out, as if to touch them. No... not once would he wish he had never met that shitty marimo. He wouldn't give up on any of the memories he shared with him, with anyone. Why? Why wouldn't he?

"Hey, Sanji. Are you worried about Robin? And Zoro?" Ace asked under his breath. The chef twisted his neck around to look at the raven-haired man. His inky eyes were glassy under the shallow illumination of the street lamps as he slowed just as they got to the Baratie.

"Yeah." Sanji replied dully. "My apartment's just the next street from here, by the way."

Ace blinked, and quickly accelerated on. "You look real troubled, man. Do you like Robin now or something?"

The blonde shook his head. "No, I just... for a sec I was worried about _Zoro_. How stupid of me. Knowing him, the mob would think he'd be too proud to set foot anywhere within a one kilometre radius of a hospital." He scratched his head, and pointed at a building.

"Touché." The car stopped by the entrance. It was brightly lit. Warm, cosy. Safe. With a fluid swing of a leg, Sanji had opened the door and stepped out, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Wanna come up for a drink?" He asked, ducking his head back down through the open window.

The detective let rip a roar of jolly laughter and petted him on his head. "Not tonight, pretty boy. I've got some Luffy-sitting to do tonight - he's got a project due in for school tomorrow which he hasn't even _started._" He smiled affectionately at the mere thought of his playful younger brother. "If I'm not there, he's just going to eat the house to pieces."

Sanji nodded, acknowledging the young boy's eating power. "Fine, bitch. See you around, yeah?"

Ace reached out a fist. "Hell yeah."

The blonde tapped his own knuckles against the other's, and watched as his best friend, most trustworthy buddy, drive off in to the night.

* * *

For a week after that night, all seemed to be calm. It was quiet in the hospital, the hues of light dappled upon the sheer white walls changing as if someone couldn't quite decide what looked best. Autumn came - the mossy smell of moist wood no longer lingered, but rather a fresher _sandalwood _scent, nostalgic under Sanji's nose. Fiery ruby reds danced on trees as the wind blew, amber golds, champagne peaches and tigereye yellows creating a jewel-encrusted roof over the patients that sat below them in the lawn, wrapped in bright scarves, the younger ones leaping around as if starring in their own ballet trying to catch falling leaves swinging mockingly over them in exchange for a wish. A wish that would lift their disheartened spirits.

Now the crunching of leaves under weary feet were also the sounds heard along with sharp rustles from Zoro's room as Sanji resumed his usual rounds. They were dissonant chords of a broken piano in his ears, waiting for the worst to happen. But it never did come, of course. At least not when he expected it.

The undercover policemen arrived too - Kalifa, with a tall, hourglass figure ticking like a clock as she strutted from one floor to another with heels like icicles, keeping watch as she assisted the excited doctors. Yes, she was incredibly busty. A particular chef with blonde hair that stuck to his marimo's side couldn't tear his eyes off her every time she swept past, pushing her posh glasses up once in a while. Kaku, on the other hand, had an oddly rectangular nose, long in a similar fashion to Usopp's, but much more... well, sturdy looking, one could say. He pulled his cap down low on his head in a threatening fashion. However, he was always smiling in a friendly way.

At one point in the week, Zoro had asked Sanji about the new footsteps he could hear. "They're the new assistant and cleaner. What're you freaking out about, shitty marimo?" He'd replied - _lied_, thus ensuing another war of flippant insults they didn't truly mean. Zoro made no attempt to fight back and ask if he was really telling the truth, despite knowing from the directions and patterns in the newcomers' steps that they weren't only there for their jobs. They didn't sound threatening, sneaky, so he let it be.

Over just that one week, the two men felt as though they had been drawn together closer than before - Zoro finding comfort in the chef's presence, Sanji (though not realising it) simply absorbing the personality of the blind man, treasuring him. The green haired man had never felt such affinity towards another person before, let alone a man. Each day that passed did not leave him incurious to learn more about the cook he once teased as being a princess. Embarrassingly, he felt as though it were the other way around. He would stay in his ward most of his day, _waiting_ for Sanji to arrive. Hoping that he would stay even a minute, a second longer than he did the day before. Yet he knew this was not the feeling one would have for a friend. He still remembered his pre-blood smeared history's best friend, a girl whom he had never once managed to defeat. A girl that fell to her death just after promising him her sword as white as fresh snow gleaming like crystals if he was to one day beat her in a dual. The emotion he felt towards Sanji... was unlike it, unlike any he had known or had been told about.

Sanji was also troubled by his own heart. He was unconsciously staying by Zoro quite a lot now, protective. Admiring, plainly being with him, knowing and reassuring himself that he was there and not taken away. When he looked at the blind man, saw him smile on the rare occasion, he felt a warmth that breathed out from his core. When they talked to one another, he felt as if the view had cleared out. He couldn't possible _love _Zoro, right? He shakily laughed at the mere thought. He was known as the lover of women. He knew it himself. That's why it was just simply not possible. But why did he long to feel the patient's gentle hands on his face again?

* * *

The two average sized men hurried along the second floor, their filthy clothing making them stand out like sore thumbs against the contrastingly pristine hospital surroundings. Stopping short, one gasped in trepidation, pointing to the door of ward 212 just as they stopped short at the fourth room from the door he pointed to. The other, wearing a pair of sunglasses although it was indoors, mouthed curses as he caught sight of the name tag. Sweat broke out on their cold backs, and they spun around, dashing away. They breathed heavily, slight curls of steam vapours wispily curling from their cut lips as they bolted from the hospital.

* * *

On the eighth morning after Sanji had found out about Shimotsuki Village, he was, as usual, going up the first and second floor to deliver breakfast. He opened the door to ward 212 nonchalantly. Not once did he even bother to rethink whether knocking on the door would be more polite towards Zoro. He entered, the door creaking ever so softly as he did so. Disappointed, he found the blind man absent. Despite the danger, Robin had allowed Zoro to keep going out for his training. It stopped him from being suspicious, at least, and apparently he loved his training.

As the blonde turned to leave, a filthy looking scrap of paper by on the window seat where Zoro commonly spent most his time. He walked over, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to see what on earth it was on the paper. As he got nearer, he could just make out tiny little holes punctured in the paper, traces of lead strewn across the sheet. Braille. Was Zoro doing some writing of his own?

Nosily, Sanji picked up the sheet of paper. Now it was obvious that the holes were, although messily, pierced using a pencil, the grey lead markings everywhere. In such a hospital... surely they would have provided a proper hole puncher. It wasn't Zoro. Maybe someone had left it there for him? Like Luffy, perhaps?

He glimpsed out the window, hoping he would be able to catch sight of the person who left it there. Patients, half naked trees with their branches clawing at thin air, grassy lawn that was fading in to a paler, tan colour as winter crawled closer and closer within their autumn. Nothing seemed out of place. So he folded the note, and shoved it in his pocket.

As he did, he felt a dizzying sensation overcome him for a moment. His mind numbed and shaded over as if he'd dipped his head back in to ice water for a long time. He choked, and stumbled, steadying himself with the wall as the room shifted back in to focus. Shaking his head in disbelief, he pulled the note out again. What the fuck?

This time, he slowly unfolded it and studied the holes one by one. They seemed to stare back at him urgently. Arms tingling, Sanji pulled out his phone, searching for the braille alphabet.

And letter by letter, he decoded the message. Double checked it and re-deciphered it.

The note read: "Zoro bro, boss is after you. Leave now."


	12. Chapter 12

**AND. Another late chapter... Sorryy! /slaps self**

**Hopefully I really can get the next two chapters done by the 14th... :S**

**Your comments had me crying rainbows guys thank you so muchhh**

**Let me love you all /sob**

**Extra note: Hey guys, FF was screwing up... Everyone who got a notification on the update found no new chapter, right? I'm sorry... I swear I posted this up yesterday... Hope it works for you now though ):**

* * *

Sanji felt as if a devil had tore his last breath from him. Who could this note have been left by? Was it from someone Zoro trusted? He fell against the wall, like a fatigued bird shot out it's sky of peace it had flown in for the past week. He was in danger. The entire hospital was in danger. No one was safe now. Zoro... Where was Zoro?! Was he really with Robin, or had he left? Left... him?

His breath quickened. Please, please let Zoro be fine...! He grabbed both note and phone, shoving them frantically in to his pocket as he ran to the door, gripping the door handle with palms hot, moist from panic and fear. Who was he afraid for? He took a deep breath. There was no point in running around. He couldn't scare the other patients and doctors that were there - selfishness in actions would bring him nowhere. Letting his fingers go slack, he inhaled deeply. Be calm, be calm. Pulled the door open. One step by another, stay calm. Yet his chest felt as if it would explode, pounding with the force of a bull.

Chopper. Just outside Robin's office door was he, holding a pile of sheets as he staggered to and fro in attempt to balance them in his small arms, hands clumsily stable as hooves, the wavering sunlight giving him a soft silhouette. Through the open window at the end of the hallway came a dry breeze of autumn, brittle like thin ice, blowing a stray document from Chopper's pile out of his reach.

Sanji grabbed the sheet as it soared to him, trying his best not to rumple it. "Chopper," he greeted the young doctor who rushed forwards, his fluffy brown hair bouncing with the life of spring. "Sanji, good morning! I'm so sorry, let me take that..." He shifted the weight of the papers in his arms, a weak and futile struggle to hold them all in one hand. The chef couldn't help but smile at the boy despite his worries kicking at his stomach. He placed the document atop the pile and petted Chopper on the head. "It's alright. You're such a hard worker; no wonder you're a genius."

The boy blushed profusely. "No!" he shrieked, ducking his head behind the stack of paper. "Don't think that you'll make me happy with praise!"

Sanji took half the heap from him, easily holding it in one hand. Ah, he could finally show off his service skills from holding trays half the nights in the Baratie. Chopper was just so cute. Looking at the boy made him feel as though he were a father. Any man would be proud to have a son like Chopper. "Oh, Chopper... Do you know where Zoro- Zoro and _Robin _are?" he asked.

The doctor tilted his head innocently to a side, and blinked, his fine, chocolate brown lashes casting spidery shadows across his round, red apple cheeks. "They went training," he replied, blinking a few more times thoughtfully. "They left just half an hour ago. Miss Robin seemed to be in a good mood. And guess what? Zoro's even smiling more often now!" His pure eyes shone in parallel happiness that things were going so well for the doctor and the blind man.

Feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted, Sanji sighed thankfully. It was the sense of relief that one would get when they'd found they hadn't really failed the most important exam of the year, or one like a successful confession to the girl of his dreams... There wasn't a 'girl of his dreams'. Not now, at least. Maybe the last 'girl of his dreams' was Nami. Maybe it never _was _any girl he'd ever met. "Thank god..." he whispered.

"Did you forget they have training, Sanji?" Chopper asked brightly.

"Uh, yeah... kinda. I'll... go find Robin during lunch then. Yeah."

"I see, so you were looking for Robin. Would you mind taking those documents back to my room with me please? I need to fill them out."

"Of course!"

* * *

This time, Sanji did not go straight to Zoro's ward. Rather, he glanced in, making sure Zoro was there to calm himself. The green haired man was sitting upright by the window, clearly having heard him arrive. Relief washed over him; daybreak in a grey night. Thank god he really was there. The blonde could only marginally hold in the tsunami-esque wave of a will to crash in to the room and hug him to make sure he was real with all his pride of a man. But no, he had to find Robin. "Sorry," Sanji thought guiltily to himself, as he turned to continue on to Robin's office.

"Oi, aren't you supposed to be delivering lunch, you bastard?" The faint sound of the patient's voice came out through the door. The chef stopped in his tracks. He really wanted to go sit with Zoro, he did... but he had to show Robin the note. Letting her know was a priority. But he wanted... Why did he have to be so selfish? Only thinking of himself? Still, he succumbed to the desire to see Zoro, and picked up the man's lunch from the lunch trolley.

Entering, he went straight to the bedside table, putting down the box with the fork on the right. With every step and movement, his eyes did not once leave the blind man. Zoro was radiating, almost, in his seated splendour at the window. "Lunch, shitty marimo." He shoved his hands in to his pockets. He felt _embarrassed. _This wasn't a thing he'd felt around the blind man before. It was odd, like there was a little angel tickling the foot of his heart with a hairy feather duster; clearing it of the dust so it shone, a crack at a time. His pale fingers curled around the note.

"You scared of coming in or what, shitty cook?" The patient smirked, mocking.

Sanji rolled his eyes. "In your dreams, dumb ass. I just needed to go find Robin."

"Then why didn't you just go?"

"Because you wanted your lunch, stupid!"

"You stopped by my door before I said anything, idiot!"

Sanji bit his lip, feeling the smooth edges of his incisors on the flesh. "I wanted to see if you were in." He admitted quietly.

The two were silent, Sanji bravely keeping his eyes on the patient even as dutch doll cheeks painted themselves upon his face, and Zoro who pressed the back of a hand to his mouth.

The blind man coughed gently, and spoke as if in a daze. "Hey, don't you need to find Robin? She's in, you know."

"Mm. Yeah. I'll be back then."

In awkward tranquility, Sanji shuffled out the door, and to Robin's room.

* * *

He knocked thrice, entered upon a call of approval. The psychologist was standing by her window, sipping a cup of tea, long legs in tight-fitting jeans, positively shining under the now-afternoon sun. "Hello, Sanji." She smiled, putting down her cup.

"Good afternoon, Robin-chwan~" he sang, handing her her lunch. She took it, thanking him profusely, but set it aside as he pulled the scrap of paper from his pocket.

"I found this in Zoro's room this morning... I don't think he knows about it though." He said, unfolding the rumpled paper, ironing it out with a thumb before handing it to Robin. Tentatively, she took it, and ran her fingers over the bumps slowly, reading.

Her eyebrows knitted together.

"Sanji, do you understand what this says?" she asked, her voice now with a hint of urgency. Sanji's heart started to race at her voice. Oh god, oh god... "Yes," he answered honestly.

"Do you understand... what situation we are in?"

"Yes."

The woman nodded gravely. "Sanji... you may have to relocate somewhere safer, near the police station... We can't be sure if this letter is from Zoro's true friends, or if someone's just leading him in to a trap." She picked up her phone and dialled in a number, holding the phone to her soft pink shell ear as she stared hard at Sanji who fidgeted from one foot to another. "Ace? Ace, it's Robin. We've gotten a note warning Zoro to leave..."

The hospital was in danger. So was he, Sanji. But would he still be able to work at the Baratie? He could never leave the Baratie, not until he was ready to open his own restaurant, his All Blue. The dream that yesterday seemed so close at hand now felt a thousand miles away, blocked by the black thorns of danger that had roused from their predicament.

"... What are you saying? We cannot move the entire hospital population to a new location! It's too obvious, and that would be disruptive to our patients and their families! ... ... You _know_ Zoro, Ace. We can't move him anywhere. ... My house... that is a possibility... Yes, tell Smoker to up the security. At the hospital? I will tell you what Zoro prefers, so I shall call again later. It is _his_ choice."

Firmly, the psychologist called off. "Sanji... We need to try transfer Zoro to my home."

* * *

"No thanks." The green haired man replied bluntly.

"I believe it is better for you to reside at my home for a while, though. After all, your body is at peak conditions so you can devotedly focus on your training while I take in account your progress." Robin contradicted, putting a hand to her hip.

She couldn't tell Zoro the real reason why he had to, _needed _to migrate from the hospital to the safety undercover of her villa. Instead, she had told him that she wanted to assess him one on one as he worked. If only convincing the blind man to change his mind from the first answer he gives was an easy task... It would be unethical to physically move the man herself. In the Thousand Sunny, patients always came first. If they didn't want to do something, so be it, unless it was vital - because their mental welfare was of a thousand times the value of a diamond ring.

Yet she was afraid that anything could happen to Zoro while he was alone at her place. She still needed to work, being the only psychologist of the compact, cosy hospital. Conflicted. Zoro's presence in the hospital would bring everyone under fire of the 'boss'. But it was unfair for him too; being made to move to her home whilst she secluded him, sealed him off and away from the one place he had come to call... home.

"Why can't we just do that here, then?" The man asked, with no spiteful intention alas somewhat rudely.

"There is no space for you to wield your swords in this environment." She said blankly.

"Can't we just stick to doing the usual?"

"Ah, but you need to stay..."

"I'm perfectly fine, anyone could see that." Zoro snorted.

Sanji stood alone by the doorway as he watched the two battle it out. He pushed back his hair as his eyes wandered mindlessly around the ward room, a few fine strands flopping back over his forehead. His gut feeling was telling him that Zoro was now suspecting that he and Robin were both trying to get him away from the hospital. Which was, in half their actual reason, true. He must feel angry, he thought. Angry, feeling rejected because we're trying to make him leave.

"I'm not going." The green haired man concluded sourly, folding his muscular arms tightly.

"... Please, Zoro..."

"What are you so desperate about? Huh?"

"... Alright."

"..."

"We'll do the assessment here." Robin sighed sadly.

She turned to leave, looking to Sanji. Their gaze held for a brief few seconds. Her face was poignant, eyes seeming to ripple with desolation, crying out in mute agony, and lips set in a glum frown. From that simple glance came a million words that swept Sanji's mind; "He needs to go to my house", "He isn't safe", "Everyone else", "If only", and tearing the chef's heart in two - "I cannot even protect my son". Their plan had not worked. Before entering Zoro's room, the two had come to a decision that if Zoro refused to relocate, then they could only increase security. It was a perilous bet, with every patient's lives dangling off a thread of silk, ready to snap with a single flick.

The blonde involuntarily gripped his chest. How could it be, that so much could be expressed without words? Pain. Guilt. Powerlessness. Robin's feelings were overlapping with his own, equal ones, doubling the sorrow. The length of time his partiality towards Zoro had existed was shorter than the psychologists'. It was of a different _kind._ And although he couldn't quite tell why...

It hurt so much more.

Robin swept past, elegant as ever, yet her head hung like she was heading to an execution of a loved one. Suddenly, Sanji felt a jolt in his heart. "Wait, Robin-chwan!" He blurted out, surprising himself.

She stopped, turning her head ever so slightly an angle where he wouldn't be able to see her face, long midnight hair slipping over her slim shoulders. "Yes?" She replied quietly. No, no, I didn't mean to call for you, wait...

"Would you mind if I changed from morning and afternoon shift to night?" Sanji felt his mouth say, heard his own voice reverberate through his throat. What was he saying?! Why would he even do that; he had to work in the Baratie!

"That's fine. I will tell Terracotta for you then."

"Uh, well, thank you..." He babbled.

He couldn't say 'never mind!' all of a sudden there, could he? Not with Robin's emotions on turmoil. Now wasn't the time to joke around. But what the hell was wrong with him?!

He watched as the woman walked down the corridor, her lone figure in the empty hallway. A lonely goddess. He wished he was as close to her as Nami, so he could just reach out and give her a comforting hug for the two of them. Promise her that he'd try his best to convince Zoro anyhow. "Hey, shitty marimo..." Cautiously, he walked over and gently touched the blind man's hunched shoulder.

Zoro shrugged him off crossly. "Was that why you were looking for her?" he hissed. "To get rid of me?"

"What? No! I just wanted to show her... some papers." The chef sat down beside the blind man at the window. "We'd never want to lose you..." he mumbled.

Zoro visibly relaxed, shoulders sagging, letting his mossy head droop as he breathed out, like he had been bottling up the tension within for ten years. As Sanji watched, he felt a tightening in his stomach. That Zoro, despite trying to keep everyone as distant from him as possible, would become so agitated when a person he felt close to wanted him away from where he felt most comfortable, safe. He was so strong... Yet could shatter with a single action. He stood on solid feet... Yet was unbalanced. It must be from losing his family and friends in the village massacre... Sanji thought. He wanted to guard the blind man, more than himself, more than everything he possessed.

He would make up for the things Zoro never had.

He would make up for the things that Zoro suffered from.

He would let Zoro know that he was impeccable to him, that he wasn't a demon, that he wouldn't leave.

And now he finally understood -

He wanted to stay work during the night because not only was it safer for him... but also to watch over the one he had accidentally...

Devoted himself to.

* * *

After that day, Zoro could hear more footsteps around the hospital. He could sense people he didn't know hanging around everywhere in the hospital... not even in the rooms, but just still. He felt their energy - strong, yet not powerful like Sanji or himself. The atmosphere was heavy, pressuring him, weighing down on his chest like he was in the depths of a pitch black ocean. What was going on? Why would no one tell him? The other patients took no heed of the new presences. Why did he have to act like one of them, be treated that way? He knew, Robin knew, Chopper, Sanji, Luffy, everyone... they all knew that he noticed things more than others.

So he tried to ask the psychologist. She claimed to not know.

She was lying, but he couldn't prove it.

He waited anxiously for Sanji that afternoon instead, listening to each tick of the clock, each sound of footfall outside his door. He had heard clearly that Sanji was to change shifts... but he just hoped that his new routine would start tomorrow. Any other day. The green haired man just really wanted the man there that day. It was impossible to deny that he honestly wanted to have the man by his side, not just to ask about the new people. The chef didn't tell him much, he never did, but he knew how to make him feel like it truly was alright. Around Sanji, he felt like no one could hurt them. But he hated not knowing what was going on - especially around Sanji.

The sharp sounds of dress shoes walking and the same wheeling noise growing nearer from across the hallway crept in to his ears. Sanji! Zoro stood, and put a hand to the wall, guiding him through the room. He stood by the bedside table and the bed, awaiting the sounds of footsteps right outside his door.

Tap, tap, tap, tap. They stopped, followed by the creaking of the door. "Lunch, marimo!" the chef's baritone voice hollered. The blind man cringed at the volume, but stayed silent as Sanji walked over and placed the box on the table beside him. He listened to the crisp crinkling of the man's shirt as he bent over and straightened back out, his soft breathing.

"Hey, what's with all the new people in the hospital?" Zoro asked out in to the nothingness he saw.

Breathing sounds stopped. An airy rustle of hair. Then a hollow intake of breath, released laboriously, slowly. "Is there now?" Sanji said in an overly cheerful voice.

That sound of his voice, the tone... The left side of his chest numbed. Why? Why did he have to not tell him? Heat flared up in his head. Sanji... he trusted him... was the trust not mutual?

He reached out to the cook and grabbed the man's shirt collar, pulling him up so they were face to face, feeling the other man gasp against him, struggle. How he wished he could see Sanji's face... just once, even in his dreams... Because although people forgot their dreams, he just knew he would never forget the chef's face.

"Why are you keeping something from me?! Why is no one telling me what's happening?! Stop... Stop lying to me!" He yelled. His own deep voice was etched with the sadness he wished didn't show. Out of self frustration, he curled his fists in to the chef's shirt tighter.

The smooth, firm skin of Sanji's hands slid over his. "Oi, put me down..." Sanji said wearily. His breath stroked Zoro's lips, warm. The blind man felt the heat of his anger rapidly transfer from his head to his cheeks. Momentarily embarrassed, he automatically loosened his grip on the man. Those strange emotions he kept feeling around Sanji... they were such a bother to him, making him feel so self conscious. He didn't know what was happening to himself inside - he felt he was an amateur to emotions, finally slipping from the heartless demon he had been for his entire life.

A whetted blow knocked the blind man off his feet. A hand forcing him backwards as he fell, pulling Sanji down with him. His heart gave a shocked thud of protest, and he landed on his back ironically hard on the soft mattress. Sanji fell on top of him with a grunt, his seemingly slim body warm on his stomach and legs, but just as quickly as that fall had happened, the irritated bundle of Sanji was off him, leaving just the aftertaste of secret enjoyment of the proximity of their each other's warmth.

Zoro felt the cook lean over him, and a hand was roughly slapped to the side of his neck. He snarled, still feeling closed away from the matters.

"It's OK, it's OK... Dammit... You don't need to worry, alright?"

He grabbed Sanji's wrist. "All everyone does is lie! I know! I know when something isn't right! Am I still like any other so-called, _fucking disabled?_"

"You're different!" Sanji shouted, loud and clear above Zoro. "You're not the same! You're better, you asshole, you're sincere and you're... You're you! If anything ever happened... I'll stay with you, got it? It doesn't matter what it is. I'll be there. So you know it's fine."

Zoro turned his head to the side and bit the inside of his chapped lips, feeling the bedsheets of water cold against his hot cheek. "Don't..." He was angry, furious that he wouldn't tell him... but he was happy. Touched, that Sanji would be willing to be with him... Despite all that he had done before, disregarding his past. Staying with the him of the present day, although he endangered every person he'd known in his worthless life.

The chef's hand left Zoro's neck as he sat up, tame, hearing Sanji stand and straighten his shirt before sitting beside him, his weight sinking the mattress. They were silent, thoughtful, before the green-haired man asked "Then... why did you change shifts?"

No sound. Just the uncomfortable whispers of the material moving. "The Baratie's less active during the night now." He heard Sanji say hesitantly.

In the end, he still wouldn't tell him the truth. "I don't believe that..." He sighed, and turned his back to the chef. He hated it, hated it so much...

"Why?" Sanji asked softly.

"Your voice tells me."

Was it too much to ask for? A genuine answer? To be lied to... by Sanji... It hurt more than swords being impaled in to his body.

Once again, the two said nothing. Zoro tucked a knee to his chin, letting the other dangle off the side of the bed. Sanji sat with both feet planted apart firmly on the ground, hands clasped between his knees. Head drooped, staring at his hands as he took them apart and stared at the palms. The afternoon light coming from the large window was no longer a warm ochre tone. It was grey-tinted, serene and sleepy. "Hey marimo. What's it like, 'seeing' people. You know, recognising them?"

Zoro's head raised, and turned himself. "Each face... is different in their own way." He chose his words carefully. It was difficult to express what it was like. No two were the same, no matter how similar they seemed. It was like a map, a person's face. Every map was for a different region. Explaining it in words was impossible - it was a tactile exercise.

"Well, what's _my _face like?"

"... You've got... nice features." Zoro grumbled.

Both men were dusted with pink simultaneously. Their hearts racing to see who's could beat fastest. But Sanji gathered his courage, the courage he'd discarded for so long... and reached out. Took the blind man's face in his hands.

Zoro's heart threatened to leap from his mouth as he felt Sanji's hands on his face. He could feel his own complexion painting itself red, with him trying to flinch away from the man to no avail. "O-oi! That's..." he started, and a thumb ran over his bottom lip, pressing it as if massaging. A tender whine escaped from his parted lips. What was Sanji doing- he didn't even know how to 'see'!

Once again, Zoro could feel the strange emotions boil in him. The same feeling he got when _he _'saw' Sanji was now in _his _face... And it was like autumn had stopped proceeding, the clock had stopped, leaving them in their perfect connection. His senses seemed to block everything out other than the feel of the man's skilful fingers connecting with his skin. Please don't, he thought under his painfully pounding heart. Please, don't... or I'll...

As the chef chastely caressed his face as if holding a large pearl, Zoro was brought to docility. He felt as if all the bad thoughts were flaking away, revealing the two, pure, stainless, innocent. Unconsciously, he settled his hands on Sanji's lean hips that fitted like the two halves of a jigsaw.

"Hey, shitty marimo..." Sanji murmured, focused on Zoro's profile only. "What does it feel like... to be blind?"

Zoro pressed his lips together, and thought as he felt the hands cup his jaw lines. "There's no darkness," He began. "There's no light. It's nothingness, like I've fallen in to a black hole...

"Admitting to blindness is hard. I don't want to be treated in discomfort, I don't want people's pity. I hate that I know so much, and yet nothing... Sometimes I can reform the shapes and colours of things, in my head. But bits and pieces are missing too. It's so frustrating."

Sanji listened intently, running his hands over the bandages. He couldn't understand the world of the blind man... but he felt Zoro's pain.

"Shitty cook... What do you call the colour of the sky?"

"... It's blue. Like All Blue." The chef stopped 'seeing' the patient. The back of his left hand stroked the smooth skin of Zoro's cheekbone. "Blue... like my eyes."


	13. Chapter 13

**Have some pre-Valentine's fluff!**

**This is a considerably short chapter... sorry if you were expecting more :S**

**You guys and your reviews... /blushes**

* * *

Within three days, Sanji had arranged for his work at the hospital to be for dinner service. It was difficult process, convincing his old man at the Baratie to let him do so; their conversation included something along the lines of "YOU SELFISH EGGPLANT!" and "DAMMIT, YOU SHITTY GEEZER, IT'S IMPORTANT", and a multitude of broken plates and a fiery battle of kicks.

He hadn't won. But he'd confessed to Zeff about the foreshadowed danger... and hinted a particular green haired marimo that he needed to stay by.

It seemed impossible to the master chef that the little blonde boy he'd accidentally raised to be a woman-loving leech to have finally settled his heart on a single person. Who? Who was it? Why would they put his boy in jeopardy - and how on earth did they even land themselves in such a position in the first place?

For years, Zeff had nurtured, fostered Sanji. Although harsh, his seemingly cruel actions towards the young man had been entirely for his own good. In such a dark society, Sanji had to be raised to be a strong fighter; one who could protect himself, protect the ones he loved, and a great chef; to feed every hungry spirit that came to them, no matter tramp or king.

The tough old man could only watch the once-tiny blonde grow with pride that filled his core. Sanji had grown to be a fine man, he had. And little by little, he was taking his steps into adulthood, to the dream he reached to like a sun over his head even on the rainiest days.

* * *

And so Sanji started working the late hours, staying for the night on weekdays. It was safer for him with the security around. It felt safer to be able to be near Zoro. Of course, from time to time he'd attempt to chat up the voluptuous undercover policewoman Kalifa, but she strutted past him anyways without a second glance, lengthy legs parading and curvaceous hips swaying in her businesslike demeanour.

He couldn't tear himself away from the green haired man. Now that he knew Zoro's past... What if for a second where he turned his attention to something else, glanced away, Zoro would disappear? Vanish from his hands that longed to hold the others'? Fade like a gentle zephyr blowing the icing sugar off strawberries? The fruit, surely sweet - but it would be missing that little extra thing that made it all the more enjoyable.

Out of fear, each night, he would stay in the blind man's room until he felt it was time he slept. He didn't think about whether he was being a nuisance to the other man. He just wanted to see him.

Initially, Zoro felt _he _was the one who was getting in the way of the chef. "Fuck off," he'd say to Sanji each night when he came back after washing the dishes. "Go home or something.". But the cook persistently returned night after night, even when the blind patient ignored him, leaving the pitiful man to sit in the solitary corner of the room alone. It was like listening to a daily ritual. He'd walk in, ask how the dinner was - and if Zoro didn't reply, he'd quietly sit in the corner, the sound of his breathing soft as a lamb. However, if Zoro did happen to reply, he'd sit with him... talk of his day, talk of Zoro's day. Listen as the fragile leaves outside danced together in a tuneless symphony, wither and fall. How long had it been since they first met? It had only been from the beginning of the transition of summer to autumn. Now, it was autumn melding in to winter; slowly, achingly.

Eventually, Zoro gave up on trying to rid the chef from his room. It didn't take long for him to realise that there was no point in it - Sanji was stubborn as a bull. But it also dawned on him that he enjoyed the man's presence, liked his company. What was it in that man that made him want to be with him, despite his "strangeness"? And those strange emotions? They were a curse in their own way. His mind wouldn't free him from the thoughts. They were so unmerciful, never leaving him alone, yet not telling him what they _were_.

* * *

"It's boring sitting here all day, you know." Zoro admitted. It was true, but it wasn't the real answer to Sanji's comment of "Hey, you're not telling me to fuck off today!".

The two sat on Zoro's bed, with the braille book of 'All Blue' spread open on the chef's lap as the blind man tried to teach him how to read it. They sat cross-legged, Sanji's feet only in socks where he had kicked his shoes off lazily, tucking one foot under Zoro's blanket wedged at the end of the bed. As the patient continuously mocked him for not being to read the braille, he blew on his hands to keep them warm. It was getting cold rapidly, but Zoro seemed immune to the chill. In fact, he was as warm as a heater beside the chef.

Sanji laughed. "Bored? Hahaha!"

"Shut up, shitty cook!"

Another splutter of laughter.

"Go practice with your three swords or whatever it was again." Sanji snorted, propping his chin in his palm as he rested his elbow on his leg.

"I would. But my swords are at Robin's."

"Then should I read you a story, baby marimo?"

"..."

Sanji roared with laughter at his own remark, clutching his stomach as he simultaneously pushed the braille book aside and leapt off the bed, knowing that Zoro would try to attack him.

"DAMN YOU, SHITTY COOK!" Surely enough, Zoro was fuming as he grabbed Sanji's shirt and pulled him down, trying to throw him down beside himself. Sanji squealed, still snorting in hysterics, stumbling clownishly in the struggle until his foot connected with the shoes he'd taken off earlier. He tripped, and fell. He squeezed his eyes shut, and felt as he hit something warm and solid.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. Bandages?

In an instant, things fell in to focus. His gently pointed nose was millimetres from touching Zoro's, whom he had fallen on top of. And his thin lips, a tawny brown from the sun... so close to his own. He could feel the blind man's soft breaths of air on his skin, raising prickles in his arms and legs. The thudding beat of Zoro's heart beneath his, aligning with his own's hammering.

His hair swept forwards so it tickled Zoro's cheeks. The skin the flaxen strands touched were blossoming with a rosy tint - beautiful under the golden tones of Zoro's complexion, so different, so godly in comparison to his own girlish fairness. Intoxicating. Zoro's scent... Zoro's being...

Snapping from his thoughts, Sanji felt his own face flare up. With a shamed grunt, he rolled off on to the bed, on to his stomach, eyes wide as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been. "WHAT THE HELL-!" He howled, and suddenly he felt his head pushed down from the back. His face was planted in to the sheets, the material getting caught in his mouth as he choked angrily.

The hand on the back of his head rubbed his face perpetually down in to the bed. A sadistically cheeky laugh from the blind man filled his ears as he felt even them turn red at the tips, betraying his man's pride. Sanji felt the cool material move over his face compressed in to them, Zoro's warm hand laced through his hair.

"LET GO!" Sanji screamed in to the bed, muffled, as he angrily lashed out in futile flails.

"Ha! I can't hear you, stupid cook!" Zoro laughed.

Nevertheless, he stopped pushing down. He kept his hand in Sanji's hair as the blonde sat up, hissing like a cat in a fit. "That's the second time you fell on me, shitty cook." Zoro said. "You owe me one."

"It's your fucking fault!" Sanji spat, trying to calm his enflamed face by patting at his cheeks. They were warm like hot buns that came straight out the oven. He wanted to just kick Zoro out that window he loved so much and hide under the blanket for the rest of life. Why the hell wouldn't his heart go back to beating normally?! He pressed his cheeks with his hands, and peeked out from behind his fringe. Zoro was smiling so brightly; childish, innocent, although even he was blushing. Sanji felt a rush of affection for the blind man, seeing those perfectly straight white teeth gleam under the hospital light, playful curl of the lips. He hated himself for feeling so pleased upon simply seeing the blind man smile. It... just wasn't normal!

Zoro's fingers behind his head curled as they fussed with his hair. Fondling with the thin threads of gold, he was intrigued. For a man, Sanji's hair was extraordinarily soft. Feeling like a cat, Sanji flushed pink and tried to swat the hand away. "Hey, get off." He growled.

Ignoring him, Zoro put his other hand on his head, pulling the chef closer to him. Heart erratic, thrashing around in his chest, Sanji bit his lip and looked away shyly despite how he felt as though at any moment, he would have a heart attack. The blind man slowly pulled Sanji's head to his. Almost in a trance. All was quiet; only the thuds of their awakened hearts in their ears.

Breaking the ardour, Zoro tilted the chef's head down and sniffed the man's hair. Sanji's eyes flew open. What! "You smell girly." The green haired man said.

Sanji couldn't help but feel disappointed. He couldn't quite put his finger on why he was though. "What do you mean, _girly?_" Sanji barked, bristling.

"You smell like... flowers."

Sanji choked. Flowers. He wasn't sure if he ought to take that as a compliment or an insult - sure enough, flowers smelt nice. And yes, he admitted to using so-called 'women's' shampoo. Honestly, was it considered a bad thing to smell like flowers to another man?

"You really are a princess, smelling like a flower." Scoffed Zoro, letting go of the chef who shot back like a catapult. Personally, Zoro felt the smell was too perfumed. It was heady and dizzying to his sensitive nose... but it wasn't all too bad, he could say. But the floral smell of Sanji's head wilted in comparison to the scent he had in general - musky, smoky, touches of exotic spices... and the sea... the sea he hadn't seen for so long... the sea he longed to touch once again...

Sanji had accumulated such scents through his everyday life, which had become a part of him, or may just have been within him his whole life until he had awoken it. Being a chef in a seaside restaurant, a smoker... and of course, everyone had their own natural scent. He can't smell it himself - but there is an aroma of your soul, pumping through your veins.

"Princess?! Fuck off! At least I'm not the shitty marimo here!" He screeched.

"_Princess._" Zoro smirked mockingly.

"Don't I also smell like... like cooking?!"

"You smell like rotten fish."

Zoro sniggered, moving his head back as he felt the man beside him attempt to kick him in the face. He was just kidding, but he loved how Sanji seemed to take the words he said literally. For his entire life, almost anything he said was ignored. Only his two comrades who were the few people who didn't wish to kill him listened - yet they were foolish and didn't quite take in all he said. With Sanji, felt like there were only the two of them in the world. With Sanji, he felt like he was needed, wanted. He was... appreciated. Because he needed Sanji too.

Wanted him.

Except maybe his rude mouth. Or not - he liked him for that too.

"You're the rotten one, rotten marimo!" Sanji chided. "But not as rotten as my old man."

"Your old man?"

"Yeah." Sanji shifted about on the bed. Zoro gave him an enquiring look - Sanji wasn't sure how he was able to do that without the expression from eyes, but the way the man cocked his head to a side told him he wanted to know more.

The chef smiled at the sight. "You see, he found me when I was young. He saved me.

"I was an orphan. Somehow, I ended up with some men who turned me in to the scullery boy of their dingy little fishing boat. Everyday, I'd give the dusty window a wipe and look out, and only see the sea. They didn't let me off and would threaten me - I'm guessing they thought I'd escape. They didn't realise that I liked what I was doing; peeling, washing, cooking when they allowed me to, despite being only eight around then.

"I'd sneak out sometimes, when they docked. I usually hunted down bookstores and libraries I could easily sneak in and out of. I always looked for one story that I fell in love with; you know, that book I borrowed for you? 'All Blue'? Eventually, I was caught... took them a year, those dimwits... so they simply kept me locked in a small, windowless room under the deck. Tossed me a couple potatoes to peel for them, throw in whatever scraps of food they happened to have.

"One day, they decided to ditch me on the next piece of land they could find. I was useless to them. They threw me off the boat at a fucking pile-of-rocks island... And being just a kid, I could barely keep myself alive in such scarce conditions. I kept as close to the sea as possible as I wandered around looking for actual living people, continuously reminding myself that I had to stay alive for my own future restaurant. Went for weeks with barely any food. Forgot my own birthday. I finally collapsed on a huge rock thing after weeks _without_ finding food... and Zeff showed up in front of me.

"It turned out that he had been on the island too, originally for hunting down rare fish to bring back to the restaurant he was going to open. But turns out his boat had been thrown on the rocks, breaking both boat and his leg, and was now waiting for his crew to come find him... yet he had actually been following me for all those weeks, placing food where I'd find it... All because he heard me saying I wanted to be the world's greatest chef... With a damned broken leg...

"His crew came and found us not long after. His leg had to be amputated because it could no longer be fixed after so long without nourishment. That shitty geezer took me in and raised me to be his sous-chef... and entrusted me with his dream of opening the world's best restaurant..."

Sanji faded away, nostalgia kicking in with a foot of steel. He could feel the pain inside of him; the guilt he felt, the ordeal they suffered through, and the thankfulness he never once forgot. Zeff's dream hadn't been fulfilled. Not yet, at least. He swore to the old man that he would surely accomplish it. For him. To repay him for all that he'd done for him.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around his waist, broad chest pressed to his, a head fitted to the crook of his neck. Sanji gave a squeak and looked to his shoulder where he felt fluffy hair tickle his neck, at the man who hugged him - Zoro. He blushed deeply. "O-Oi..." He mumbled.

"You can do it, for sure." Sanji heard the blind man say in to his shoulder. He closed his eyes. "Believe me."

The blonde could only nod as he felt hot tears prickling hostilely at his eyelids. Zoro, cheering him on... Zoro, believing in him... He felt so happy, so so happy... alas, felt a horrible pang of self-condemnation. Zoro shouldn't believe in him - not after all those lies he'd said to him, after all that time he'd not been honest.

The blind man slid away, unlatching himself from the chef, both sides hiding the fact they liked it too much for their own good. Sanji grabbed Zoro's hands with his just as they nearly slipped from his skin. There it was again; the electricity, the connection, the tingles. The other man's eyebrows seemed to form the Chinese character for the number eight as he bit his lip bashfully.

"Thank you," He whispered. "Thank you."

* * *

Sanji closed the door of the room Robin had given to him to stay in during the nights. It was a surprisingly homely room - not at all like a hospital ward that he was expecting. It had a simple bed with blue covers and a bedside table, and even a desk and cosy little plant pot. The blonde sighed, and sank to the floor, his back against the door.

What was that, that he always felt with Zoro? What was it, that caused his heart to beat like it was so excited? What was it, that made him do things that he never would with another man? He pressed his hand to his neck. Even the pulse there was throbbing, aching to go back to the patients' room.

Why did he want to see him so badly? The image of the blind man filled his mind. The scent of his skin so close to his own, the insane contact between them. The pulse heaved faster and faster.

No matter how much he wanted to deny it... he had fallen for Zoro. He couldn't deny it, because he felt it, strong within him, bleeding, blissful. He could only see him. In his world, there was no one else... How on earth did it turn out like this?

Why did it have to be a man? Why him? Sanji wanted to scream out. It was so right, and so wrong. When he was with the green haired man, when he could feel the touch of him, when he merely saw that man... it was right, right, right. With Zoro, he felt as if he was reborn, scarless. But how could he... a man!

He buried his face in to his hands. He couldn't love a man. He loved women. Even the word 'gay' was considered an insult. How could he... be 'gay'? It seemed so impossible.

His soul cried aloud with his affection.

But his mind tried to mute it, cut it with a blunt knife; it hurt.

It hurt that he was one of modern society that was considered disgusting. It hurt that he knew gays were beaten to living dirt because of who they loved. It hurt that he liked Zoro so much... and how he too may end up like that because of that.

Does Zoro feel the same way? Does Zoro's thoughts linger over him the way his do? Wait! He shook his head, frustrated. He felt like a sinner for even considering it was even possible Zoro liked him back. He felt like a selfish child with his eyes set on a single pet in a store. No... Zoro was not a pet. Zoro was a human. He was a person, not even the demon he thought himself to be. Because humans had emotions... and _his_ Zoro had more emotion than anyone he'd met. He was an individual, belonged to no one but himself. He stood out like a star in a pitch black night, immaculate.

But really, why a man? He truly thought he had loved women. He didn't want to be discriminated. Not like how Zoro already had to go through that once. If Zoro loved him back... What more would he have to suffer through? Even if he tried to protect Zoro, words could slice through even the toughest barriers.

However much his mind burdened, Sanji's heart would only say that he loved Zoro. He loved him... and had he never known till today? Rather... he had never acknowledged that such emotions existed within him. That's right... he loved Zoro... and he couldn't escape from it anymore.


	14. Chapter 14

**HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY EVERYONE!**

**Me? I'm a loner this year, as usual. But I don't need someone to send me cards or roses or chocolates - because having you guys read ****_Watchful _****is enough for me... ehehe... /blushes**

**On another note, I've got some really important exams coming up in May. There's a lot I have to revise for... 9 subjects with multiple papers each... phew! Which means updates are going to be super, super slow ):**

**That's why I'd like you all to have this special chapter before I go off to hell- I mean, to study. But feel free to PM me, if you want! I'll try my best to answer them, and to write a bit each day!**

**Btw, the song featured here is a Chinese one called 天堂 ****by 光良 ****- I just used the english translation, because this song fits too perfectly - just in case any of you were interested~**

**Thank you, all of you, for everything. I love you, and I hope you have a great day.**

* * *

He could feel something being tucked under his arm in his sleep. It was thin and cold, smooth and yet uneven in texture... And then the feeling of skin, a _person _touching his forearm. Slowly, he was coming to, yet unable to completely awaken, he couldn't move. The blindness he suffered told him nothing either, made it impossible to tell if he was in dreams or not.

Zoro twitched a finger vexingly. He could hear the sounds of clothes rustling. Two sets of clothing rustling, two pairs of feet shuffling. They couldn't be doctors. It was the middle of the night - he knew it was, from the chirping of a lone cricket before it left to find warmer lands. No birdsong, no faint chattering of patients. Dammit, move... move!

Fear rushed in to him, biting hard, a tiger pouncing on it's pitiful prey that was him. Fuck, fuck, who were they? Was he really in the hospital?! His breaths were wildly becoming denser, sharper. The movements beside him ceased. Heavy breathing. Then they became frantic.

In a second, the blood in his body splayed out across his muscles. Adrenaline, driving him in beastly instinct. With the feeling returned to his shaking arms, he sat up and made a disquieted grab for the sounds of breathing with each hand. One hand successfully grabbed a neck. The other... found a shirt. Shit... shit! Panicked, Zoro thrust both the bodies together as hard as he could, and heard the hollow, sickening clonk of two heads colliding.

The bodies in his hands grew limp, twitching, not a noise of pain coming from them. He had to get rid of them... get them out of his room... possibly even kill them... Oh god, oh god...

Staggering to his feet, the hoarse sounds of his breaths filling the room. A rippling flutter falling to the floor caught his attention. His head snapped to the direction of the flutter. Dropping one of the bodies instinctively, he bent and grabbed the source. It was cold, almost flakey, crumpling under his crush with significantly recognisable bumpiness and holes. Paper. Braille.

Quickly, he pinned the still unmoving bodies under his feet. Unfolded the mangled sheet of paper. Huff, huff... still only his scared breathing... He stroked the paper gently. It was ripped along the sides. Braille, although messy, for sure. He began reading it.

_"Zoro bro, why are you still here? Leave quickly, boss is on his way! Trust us! It's Johnny and Yosaku! We can't speak, so please..." _

Was what it read.

Johnny and Yosaku. Zoro felt the pounding in his chest stop. The two men he had become friends with in the mob. The only people he could consider 'friends' back then.

The two men that had helped him escape.

Cold sweat was forming on his forehead. _"boss is on his way!". _The boss. _Him_.

Why?!

No... Please let this be a lie...

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Not after he'd left and finally settled.

Not after he'd found something he truly wanted to protect.

He reached down, fumbling about, and hauled one of the bodies off the ground by the neck, keeping the other firmly under his foot. His foot... he could feel it vibrating. Trembling with the fear accumulated over the years. He wondered if that person he had under his foot could feel it too - the horror, the anger.

Quivering, trembling, he let his hands wander over the face of the man he'd pulled up. Let it fall, and heard them come to, coughing, hacking.

It was Yosaku.

And he knew that wherever Yosaku went, Johnny did.

Which meant it really was true.

The boss, _that man... _was back.

He stumbled backwards, the air lost from his lungs. He was back. Him. Him. _Him. _He numbed over. And his friends... they couldn't speak? That fucking asshole... That _devil._

The nothingness around him seemed to be swirling, catching him up in a whirlwind of terror. He couldn't even hear the sounds of his two friends moving about, feel Johnny beneath his foot pull out from under, feel the two of them throw their arms around him. They were alive... _alive _but _mute. _What had _he _done to them?!

He felt the two men pull him close. He could feel even them shaking, a wetness of skin pressed to his cheeks. Was it happiness to see him alive too? Was it fear that they would get caught? Was it a silent prayer that they would all continue to survive?

For a few painful seconds, his friends lingered in their embrace. He could only sadly place his arms over their shoulders. He had so much to ask. But yet he knew they wouldn't be able to answer.

They pulled away, and with brotherly pats on his shoulders, their shared fear, Zoro listened, only half there, as they squeezed through and jumped out from his window. Leaves and grass rustling as they landed safely, their pounding steps faded in to the sleepless night.

Until he could no longer hear the sounds of the men's feet, Zoro fell to his knees. _He _was here. _He... _was surely after him. And with him he brought unrepairable chaos, death. Darkness.

The hospital.

Robin. Chopper.

Sanji.

Those people that he cared so much about. They would be killed. They wouldn't be able to escape. No one in his path would be left alive. The nothingness he saw burned red in his mind - the memory of blood, corpses... Darkness and darkness... He couldn't imagine it, the hospital painted in that hideous deathly red... The image of his own blood-stained hands filled his head. He could practically feel it... the metallic taste in his mouth. The scalding, thick liquid oozing over the surface of his body, his skin...

He had to protect them... Robin... the one who had kept him safe for so long. Chopper, nursing him to health, constantly, constantly... He had to protect _Sanji. _He already knew that the chef was strong enough to protect himself. But he would be no match against _him. _No one was. He couldn't understand why... but... the mere thought of Sanji dying...

Shit... It hurt so much. He was already hurting Sanji. He couldn't hurt him anymore. Why hadn't he known earlier? He couldn't do this anymore. If Sanji was hurt... If Sanji died... He wouldn't be able to live himself.

He had to leave.

He would protect them that way. Somehow, he knew this would one day be forthcoming. And yet he allowed his naïve self to fall too deeply. He had become attached... attached... to Sanji. And now he had to tear himself away from the one person he had, for the first time... felt anything so sincerely for.

Did this feeling have a name?

Was this merely destiny, that he would never escape the sins?

At daybreak, he promised himself. He would break out while training with Robin, so he could have his swords. He would leave, fight with everything he had. Because maybe then, the gods would forgive him.

And let him meet Sanji again, properly.

Whether it be in their next lives... in a million centuries... as long as they could meet once more, in a world not so perilous.

* * *

He couldn't sleep again. For hours he lay awake, just thinking of Sanji. Thinking of how he could leave successfully without causing too much of a ruckus. He needn't have a clock to tell him what time it was. He had already had such a close affinity to his surroundings, the nature around him to tell him exactly when it was. The heat of the sunlight that shone through the windows, the song of birds, the temperature... it was more difficult now that it was when the insects and animals went in to hibernation, but simply the temperature, the humidity on his skin was enough.

It was cold now. The kind of cold that made the hairs on your arms rise as soon as you shoved the blanket off. And that was how Zoro knew that this was just about the time Robin should come in to bring him out. He sat up, ready. It was time. Muscles tense with apprehension, battle ready.

He counted the seconds ticking by. 60. 120. 180. Three minutes past the usual time. He grew irritable with the tension he had created within himself. Where was she, dammit!

The seconds slowly grew to 300. Then 600. Ten minutes. This was unlike Robin, who was usually so punctual. Zoro's heart was weary, tired of anticipating, tired of waiting until he could leave. As much as he wanted to simply stay maybe even a while longer, to have Sanji by his side once more, even for a second... It was dangerous. It was so stupid of him, so selfish. Dragging Sanji in to this, because he couldn't help but want to be near him. No... no more could he meet that shitty chef he adored so much. Fuck...

Robin, where was she? He needed to leave now... NOW... She couldn't have been caught... could she? Robin... Robin...!

Fifteen minutes. If being truly desperate was the equivalent of dread and afraid, that was what Zoro was.

Twenty. He was starting to hear the tapping of feet along the corridor. Other people, not Robin.

Twenty five. The dripping of a tap that hadn't been closed properly. Drip, drip, drip... ebbing, scratching at fear's wound, brutal.

Thirty. He could wait no longer.

He stood, and ran to the door, feeling the handle with both his hands. Tore the door open, as if he'd been locked in for an eternity. To his right. He knocked on Robin's door.

No answer.

No... He couldn't stay... He had to leave... He pounded his fist against the door, as if with each desperate knock, she would slowly materialise behind the frame.

"Zoro?" A tentative voice. Chopper.

Letting his arm drop to his side, Zoro stopped. His arms were quivering. What from? The desperate knocking, or still the fear eating away at his soul?

"If you're looking for Miss Robin, she won't be here for the day... she's taking a day's leave for some... private matters, she said." The young doctor's voice was soft, scared. The blind man couldn't help but feel guilty. Why was it that he always scared those around him? Karma? Sanji wasn't afraid of him, at least he thinks not... Stop! He shook his head angrily. He couldn't... he couldn't think about Sanji anymore...

"Thanks, Chopper..." He sighed, letting his head hang. "Sorry."

"What are you sorry for? Here, I'll take you back to your room. Breakfast is coming in a short while." Chopper said, bright again as usual. "Too bad Sanji isn't cooking breakfast anymore! His food is best!"

Sanji...

"Yeah..." Zoro grunted lightly in response.

He let himself be led away by the boy. He... would just have to wait until tomorrow before he left.

* * *

That night, Sanji came in to his room again, accompanied by a gentle _thud!_ where the man had put something down - distinctively wooden, yet covered in something thickly padded. His heart sang with joy when he heard those balanced, sturdy steps, the voice calling out to him. And yet, his mind could only cry... Because he knew this would be the last time he would hear that voice.

He couldn't let him get any closer to him. What if... what if he was to be targeted? Any more time spent together, any more attached and... he wouldn't be able to let him go...

He edged away, squishing himself against the inner corner of the window seat. Ashamed of his own actions that made him seem so helpless, he felt his neck heat up, pressing his cheek to the icy window. "Oi, marimo, what's wrong?" Asked the chef, his voice unsure. That voice, that voice... So soothing it could break his heart. Killing him softly, gentle and painful as a knife of feathers.

"I'm just tired." Zoro replied monotonously. What a liar I am, what a hypocrite... he thought to himself guiltily. He'd been selfish. He'd had his seconds with Sanji. He couldn't hold him back any longer... be in his way, ruin his dream for him, just because he brought danger wherever he went... because _he _was a threat. Now it was time to let him go. Because there were so many things Sanji could do, someone out there waiting on the other side of that crimson thread... even if he wanted him to stay by his side forever...

"What, you need to sleep? Weak." He heard Sanji laugh. He knew it was just a joke. He knew it was just Sanji, being Sanji. He liked him for that. He liked how he made everything seem so good, coating it all in a layer of white, incandescent. But, please... please...

If he truly had to let him go... then he could only ask for Sanji to hate him. Yeah. He would make Sanji hate him. Simply that, and he could leave easier...

"Leave me alone..." He said in an overlay of a sigh and choke.

Why did it have to hurt so much just to say it?

* * *

Zoro was pushing him away. Right after he had finally realised he loved that man. Sanji clicked his tongue, looked away to the floor. He hated it, knowing that he loved a man. He loved it, knowing that the one he had fallen for was Zoro. He loved it so much, that now he could understand himself. But he wouldn't take it back, all those promises he had made to himself. That he would protect Zoro, that he would give Zoro everything he never had, that he would make up for it all.

Love, itself, was something that the blind man had not had for a long time - with the loss of his parents, being secluded away from the normal world, pulled in the dark. And as he had tossed and turned the night before, he came to comprehend it, those feelings that reached for the patient... He was afraid of himself.

He was afraid of himself... that if people found out he was... 'gay', then he would hurt Zoro too. It was just idiotic, that thought. He had to break from the shell. So he told himself that he would give it a try, this love. He would let it lead him, help this man with a bloodied past. Dedication, was it? That's right. Before even finding out about his own feelings... he was already dedicated, tied to the man by an invisible force.

"Marimo..." He walked over, and reached out to touch the man on his neck, that golden, tanned neck. What was he doing! He twitched back, but his heart lead him on. His finger stroked against the stretch of unscathed skin, glowing in juxtaposition to the darkness outside.

Zoro flinched away, biting his lip as if holding something in, and suddenly threw out a punch. Sanji gasped, stepping back just in time. "Marimo?!" He feinted to a side as Zoro now stood and tried to punch him again, and returned with a kick, knocking the next arm that flew to him away.

The blind man was a flurry of hauntingly elegant movements as he tried again and again to hit him; lashing out kicks, jabs, kneeing the air he moved from barely a millisecond ago. An elbow to his side - he swerved. An uppercut - he leant back. Zoro swerving around him to catch him in a headlock - he ducked and hopped back... and found himself with his back to his wall. Frantic, ecstatic, weary, not once did he return an attack. It had turned in to a dance of receiving.

"Marimo, you're fighting hard today..." He said quietly as the blind man panted, momentarily paused - they both knew Sanji was cornered. "What's wrong...?" He watched in horror as Zoro pulled back, and sent a powerful punch towards him. Shit! The hidden energy in him was released, and just at the last moment, he slid down, through and between Zoro's long legs spread in his balanced stance.

He picked himself up from the ground, and turned back to look. His jaw dropped to the ground. Zoro's fist did not move from the wall he punched, as if expecting something to happen. The wall now had an incredible indent, to the point that with a single push, a hole would be made. Enormous cracks expanded from where Zoro's fist was, growing from the indent to the floor and ceiling, denser around the hand like a mutated spiderweb, fractured like glass.

Slowly, Zoro pulled his hand back, and let it drop to his side. From Sanji's point of view, he could see the glowing red skin across the knuckles of the hand from that single punch. "Zoro!" He blurted out, and rushed over, faster than he ever had travelled in his life.

He pushed Zoro so his back was up against the wall, holding him by his wrists up to the cold, hard surface. Holding him tightly, he positioned his legs so that with a swift kick, the other man would be down on the floor. Waiting for a struggle. Instead, the other man made no sign of an effort to fight back, turning his head to the side. Like he didn't want Sanji to see him.

The sounds of their breathing filled each other's ears. Slowly, the two both blushed, realising how close they were. Sanji couldn't control the beating of his heart, the beating of his love that just didn't want to die down... It was like a stab to his gut, seeing Zoro in such a state. Please, he wanted to rest his head on the other man's shoulder and yell. Please, tell me what's torturing you so. I'll make it better, I'll fix it, I promise...

He tilted his head to get a proper look at the blind man's face, peering with his eyes squinted. When he saw Zoro's expression, his eyes widened. His heart seemed to cry. The other man... he didn't look angry, like how anyone would if they were pushed against the wall, held like a criminal, like an animal. He didn't look sad. Zoro... he looked broken. His teeth were grit, eyebrows inverted, complexion almost to the point of sickness.

"Your hand..." He whispered, holding it delicately in one hand, gently laying his own cool fingers of the other hand on top of the reddened patches, soothing them, easing the shaking. However, with each touch he made, the man seemed to shudder more. He watched as the patient swallowed and rested his teeth at the tip of his own tongue. The tanned lips moved like waves, as though calling for him.

"I'll... go. I'm sorry." He let go. Zoro turned in to a limp doll, sliding against the wall, lifeless. The blind man straightened out shakily, and staggered straight to the window seat, sitting himself down and tucking his knees up.

Zoro, Zoro, Zoro... What happened? Talk to me... please... Sanji held in the will to scream. Please... Whatever was hurting Zoro... it was hurting him too. It was so strange; feeling as if you were going to die, although you didn't know what from. This had never happened to him before, hurting because another was. What could he do? It was clear that Zoro needed him away. Yet somehow, he felt as though Zoro needed him to stay just as much.

He was torn. Should he stay? Should he go? He looked to the blind man. Zoro was once again resting his head on the glass, his fingers wound together, creating a barrier. As if in that motion, a barrier really would build itself around him, blocking him off. So that nothing would hurt him. So that _he _wouldn't hurt anyone.

On days like these, he really wished he could read Zoro's mind. Anything, to find out what he was truly thinking. To then be able to help him, make things better.

He slowly turned and headed to the door. With a last look of reluctancy, Sanji sighed, and left.

* * *

Another disturbance during the night. Shuffling about, the sound of sock-padded feet on creaking floors, round by his side. Leaning over him. That presence, so familiar, and yet he was afraid... Who? Who was it now?

Slowly, the scent of the person filled his nose as he felt his body awaken. Musky. Smoky. Spices and oceans. Flowers... What an odd aroma to go with the rest... Zoro knew it was someone he needn't fear. He knew it was someone close to his heart. But in this nothingness, now that the person had stopped moving...

Airy threads of silk touched his ear briefly as the person seemed to kneel beside him, simply staring. A sigh, light as a breeze. He knew that sigh. He knew that feeling. If only he could open his eyes... and just reassure himself that it really was... Sanji.

Open his eyes, to find out if he were dreaming.

Did he long to be with Sanji so much that he'd hallucinate, dream of him? See him in the depths of the unconsciousness? It was said that dreams reflected one's desires. Their hopes and wants they never dared to tell. That was just a simple, so-called theory. One couldn't trust such psychological sayings - there would always be another explanation chasing the tail.

His hand seemed to move at it's own will. It reached to the side, and finally found the head of that person. It moved, and slipped from his touch. So maybe it is a dream after all. Maybe. Maybe... Slowly, he sat up. Fuck, was he awake _now? _Couldn't his mind just free him of that chef, that shitty chef that he kept wishing to be with?

Something moved. In the pits of his void, he could sense it. He was awake, and there was someone in his room. Too light to be _that man_, yet too heavy to be young Chopper. The thumps of feet skittered over to the side of the room. It... it really was Sanji. What the fuck was he doing in his room in the middle of the damn night?!

"Oi!" He said in to the darkness.

All froze. Not even a shaking of leaves, the panting of sneaking breaths heard. Then in a gradual gradient, the galloping sound of a heartbeat, clear as day.

Was it his, or Sanji's?

"M-marimo?" came an answer.

Sanji... It really was Sanji... fuck... Thoughts ran wild through Zoro's mind.

Come here.

Stay away.

Be with me.

Leave before this pain grows any more.

"What are you doing here, you shitty cook?" He hissed, clutching the material of the hospital attire around his stomach. Why did he have to come back, torture him so? Why did he have to come back, make his heart throb so sadly?

"I left my guitar in here," Sanji said. "I brought it today to entertain you with since you said you were bored, and my wallet's in there too..."

So that was what the thing Sanji had put down earlier was.. Zoro didn't even bother as to ask why he couldn't wait until the next day. Knowing Sanji, the answer wouldn't really make sense to him - maybe he wanted something to consume. Tiny things such as thirst and hunger, Zoro knew. And he had learnt to suppress such wants for limited time through the harshness of his childhood. But that want for the chef to stay with him... he struggled to hold back.

Sighing, he lay back down, rolling over to his side. If he talked to him anymore... He wouldn't be able to leave...

"Hey, marimo... you look really troubled... would you like me to play something?"

No... please... hearing you is enough to kill me from the inside out... Maybe, if he just ignored him, he would leave... He couldn't let anything happen to Sanji...

He heard the sound of the guitar being lifted, the bag being unzipped. Hollow, wooden 'clock, clock' sounds as Sanji held the guitar in place, his steps as he sat on one end of the window seat. Zoro sighed again, and bit his lip, rolling over to his side so his back was facing Sanji.

With the first notes strummed, the tune was played in fingerstyle. Fuck, stop- Zoro shot up again, ready to pull the chef by his luscious hair out the room. Anything... anything to stop him from liking this man anymore that he already did...

This song. He knew it.

The words to this song... so beautiful, so anguishing in meaning...

_There's no need to search for a supposed heaven_

To Zoro... it didn't matter if there was a heaven or hell. Because he knew wherever he was... if he was to die, he would still wish to be reborn to see Sanji. See him with his own eyes, to be able to see his smile which was surely brighter than the sun. With leaden steps, he stood and walked over to the chef, playing the guitar with such focus.

_Because of you,_

_I don't wish to wander any more_

It wasn't necessary to search sightlessly for a place he belonged. Right now, there would only be one place in his heart. And that would be with Sanji; where he was now was the location of everything he needed. He sat on the other end of the window seat, simply listening, as he leaned his shoulder, head, on the window.

_I'd rather be ordinary_

Maybe, just maybe, if he hadn't been the person he was today... the demon... he might've just had even a little longer to be with Sanji. Seconds, minutes, hours... days to weeks, months to years... To just be normal. To have eyes to see the man he felt so much tenderness for. To not have him be in danger, to have that single chance to find out what this emotion was called so he could just _tell _him...

_If I could no longer possess everything, it wouldn't matter_

Because all he ever had, he'd willingly leave behind. He'd willingly lose everything forever, in exchange of being with Sanji.

_Having you in my heart_

There was nothing more that he wanted.

_It's already heaven _

The notes faded away heartbreakingly. The two men were silent, letting the song melt in to their souls. "That song... It's one I used to know." Zoro said. It had suddenly felt as if he had something caught in his throat so he couldn't speak.

"It's one of the first songs I learnt. My old man gave me this guitar on my twelfth birthday, and I'd just go to the library and find out how to play different songs."

"My mother... would sing this, sometimes."

Sanji looked down. Zoro... he must really miss his mother, his family... The blind man took a shuddering breath in, and exhaled. "Play it again... please." he said.

The cook made no reply that sounded in his ears, except for the hum of the guitar strings. Slowly, the strings were strummed, plucked - with each note, sang an old memory from deep in Zoro's recollections.

His mother, that although kept him in the house, gave him all the care in the world. In their grain field he would hide, and she would pretend to look for him, despite how obviously he stood out with his green hair among the flaxen grains. Their family was the one place in the village you could find grain to make bread with - it was a rural area, after all.

_ "Zoro~ Zoro~!" His mother called. _

_ He hid between the tall stalks, chuckling to himself as he saw he turn her back to him and say loudly "I guess he's not here!". The sky was exceedingly clear, birds soaring high above in their own game._

_ Then he leapt out, just as she turned back around and caught him in her arms._

_"Did you really think I couldn't see you, silly?" She laughed as he pouted. "Come, I've just made some bread."_

_ "Yeah!" He smiled up at her. _

Now, he could only see her smile in his memories. He sighed; the song was on it's repeated verse. _Perhaps, with your smiling face at my side, the world is actually this vast. _A smiling face of Sanji's, he wondered. He subtly shuffled forwards, closer and closer to the chef still playing his guitar devotedly, until their knees were touching. He reached out... and took the man's face in his hands, once again, as he did before.

If only... If only...

The skin under his palms was starting to radiate with heat, yet the guitar never stopped. Their hearts were beating in time to the beat of the song - although slow, it was sure, strong, unwavering.

The last notes hung in the air.

Neither said a word.

Words were not needed.

Their soft breaths were enough to continue the song.

Reality settled in. "Hey, why're you..." Muttered Sanji.

Zoro twitched. What the fuck was he doing! At this rate... at this rate, he would never... He withdrew sheepishly; embarrassed, angry at himself. Why?! Just as he pulled away, Sanji's hands caught his wrists.

"It's OK, Zoro," He placed the blind man's hands back on to his flushed face, pulling him close. "It's OK."

With heavy breaths, Sanji leaned forwards. Closer yet; affinity growing, overflowing, spilling out, until they were cheek to cheek. Only each other's presence, each other's warmth, each other's spirit could be felt.

"No! You- You can't... Leave! Don't you fucking know how dangerous I am?!" Zoro suddenly burst out, retracting away from the chef. "Fuck... fuck!"

"I know."

"Didn't you hear me, when I told you I was a child assassin?!"

"I don't care about what you did. Who you were back then, in your past life, whatever; they don't matter. I'm not fucking scared. I'm not running away, because I promised you - I want to stay."

Zoro bit his lip. A weighty pebble of water slid down his face. Why was he crying? He couldn't tell. He felt so shattered, that at this rate, Sanji really would be targeted. The chef would be hurt because of him. And yet, he was happy. That Sanji must've felt that same, nameless emotion as he did. That Sanji would stay by his side.

Once more, Sanji leaned in close. He did not hold Zoro's face, as the other did not. Because it was his choice of whether he wanted this or not.

The blind man gently took his teeth off his lower lip. He hesitated for a brief moment, still afraid, afraid for the two of them.

"It's OK." Sanji's voice said again. "They can't hurt us."

Zoro nodded, holding in another tear of regret and overwhelming joy that threatened to fall from beneath the bandages. He, in turn, tilted his head a slight, and pulled in to the other man.

As if two worlds meant as one had finally joined, like the attraction of two opposite poles of a magnet... the other end of the crimson thread was found as their lips met. Tender, loving.


	15. Chapter 15

**It's been a while since the last chapter, hasn't it? I'm so sorryyy /bows deeply**

**Wow, guys... Thank you so much, all the new views, reviews, favourites and follows... I'm so overwhelmed; I never thought this would possibly even happen... I can proudly (or not) say that when the follower count reached 70, I got a rush of manly tears in public :')**

**I love you all, I really do. Please enjoy chapter 15.**

* * *

Softly, he stirred. Cool morning sunlight dappled his skin through the window - just faintly warm; the sweet, sweet aftertaste of a moment that would never be lost. Zoro could feel the surface under his head was even warmer, strong and solid yet just cushioning enough, rising and falling like a wave. And a heartbeat, steady and slow. He sat up, leaning forwards from his position, feeling the stiffness in his spine - he had fallen asleep on the window seat last night. Last night... where he and Sanji had... connected. And it seemed he had slipped in to the land of dreams on Sanji's chest.

He felt his face heat up considerably at the memory of the night before, and that he had so shamelessly dozed off on the chef. Cautiously, he felt beside him. Sanji's slender legs covered in the rough material of his pants. What was he, Zoro? The so called ex-assassin, now like an infant? Falling asleep on someone so weakly, so obviously? But it was comforting. He felt so... human. Nearly whole, a once empty glass gradually being refilled with what had been taken many years ago.

He turned around on his seat carefully to face the still sleeping chef, and felt around in front of him. His fingers brushed past Sanji's hair. It slipped from his dry skin like threads of silk. He stopped, and placed his hand back where he felt the man's hair, cupping the cheek as if Sanji were made of glass. Surely, this chef he felt so much for was beautiful. Slipping his other hand on the other cheek, he traced the man's features in a trance. What was the word for this feeling? It was more than admiration. More than adoration.

But he now could no longer stay.

Despite how happy he was, it pained him even more to have to realise that at this point, Sanji would unavoidably be targeted. With _him _now here... Zoro let his neck go limp in anguish. Why couldn't he have restrained himself? Why couldn't he stop himself? Allowing Sanji become his addiction. He clung on to the chef gently, chest burning, a fire trying to break the walls of his ribcage. He would do anything, anything to protect the chef. He didn't want him to get involved.

Selfish. Dangerous. That was what he was. If only he'd used his head before what the newfound heart of his had urged him to. The boss was after him. There was nothing he could do but leave, as he had planned. He can't postpone any longer, be with the one man that showed him light in his empty void. Should he stay, like what he wanted so much? Or should he... leave? Vanish like a dream that was never meant to be. Oh, if this feeling didn't exist... If it didn't hurt so much that it made him ask himself if he regretted that kiss from the night before. Did he? He wouldn't be hurting Sanji like this if it hadn't happened. But the chef had kissed him back like he truly cared. Like there was only the two of them in their worlds. Like he needed him just as much as he did.

What he had allowed them to fall into would now lead him back to his original fate - to die at the hands of the one who killed his parents, village. He knew no matter how desperately he fought, he would never be able to defeat the man. It was simply not a choice. He could do nothing now to protect Sanji... and everyone... A solemn swear that he'd protect them that will be kept; he will, as he had originally planned, leave. The pages will turn as time goes, the sand timer will not stop until the top half is unfilled, and everyone will move on. His heart hurt so much to realise he would never be with Sanji. If only time would stop for him, despite all he'd done before. All he'd _killed_.

He grit his teeth, and slowly, as if trying to break from chains, pulled his hands away from the chef's smooth face. This would be the last time he would see him. If he didn't stop now, he would never be able to.

Standing, he slid his strong arms under the sleeping chef's knees and arms, lifting the body with more care than a weighty statue ready to fracture at any second. He felt Sanji's head slump against his shoulder as he vigilantly took baby steps to where the bed was. Laying Sanji down, he leant over him. Like those times when Sanji fell on top of him, but now with their roles reversed. He would be the one to leave the room in the end. But he would not return the next day.

He brought himself closer yet to the man's cheek, his nose gently bumping into the soft skin. This miracle that somehow brought the two together... would now, here, have to break. He, shy as a blooming blossom, brushed his lips against the other man's, and pressed them together. Parted.

Goodbye.

Emotions. In the end, they only brought pain, didn't they? Emotions. They were what he had always missed. He just... never realised the weight of it. Happiness - was it true that it could last for eternity? He doubted it. He knew only of one person who was near constantly happy: Luffy, almost always bright. But even Luffy had his moments where he would go insane, just as insane as he, Zoro, could be.

Hopefully... in their next life... they could all meet once again... but deep inside, nestled in the chaotic heart of his, he wouldn't mind if he only saw Sanji. As long as it was Sanji.

He doesn't want to do this. But there's no other option, is there? He turned, skimming his hands over the wall as he walked to the door. His steps were the ticking on the clock he couldn't see, yet knew time was running out. His fingers touched the icy cool of the door handle. Stopped. When he opens this door he won't be able to change his mind no matter how much he regrets it. Stay, and wait for _them _to come, take him away, and find Sanji? Or leave, not even a minute longer, never to meet again in exchange for the chef's life?

His own brief happiness... or Sanji's brief sadness?

The chef... wouldn't mourn for him for that long, right? Because he wasn't alone. He had people around him that adored him. He had a family. He had a dream to live for... and Zoro would help him achieve it. There was no other he cared more about with all his being.

Pushing gently, he opened the door.

* * *

A heavenly aroma of buttered pastries and velvety berries burst out into the dining room as the kitchen doors of the Baratie were thrown open, along with an explosion of insults being screamed and the clatter of dishes, the chopping of knives. Sanji swept out with a tray piled high with breakfast courses: freshly baked croissants, hot pancakes doused in thick syrup, silky premium coffee, creamy pasta, fluffy eggs and the whole lot. He almost seemed to dance in and out of the tables in a complicated swirl, placing plates here and there as he flirted shamelessly with the rich, upper-class ladies in for a breakfast sent straight from god.

He may flirt, he may flaunt and woo the women, but his heart wasn't in to it. Why not? Because he loved Zoro. Not the ladies, although they were pretty and fun to be with, although he honestly admired them.

Zoro was gone by the time he had woken up that morning. Training, he suspected. The green haired patient was a dedicated man, for sure. Sanji had found himself lain on the hospital bed as he thought to himself, but clearly remembered that the night before, he had fallen asleep by the window, guitar propped up like a soldier against the wall on the floor. Sure enough, the guitar was still there where he last remembered, but for him to have miraculously teleported to the bed? He suspected it was Zoro. Who else would be strong enough? No one except Robin entered the ward during the mornings, and he was sure the tall woman wouldn't lift him up and place him on the bed.

He felt a warmth seep through his body at the realisation of such an act of kindness and compassion. He wanted to grab Zoro on the shoulders and yell, "See? You're not a demon, or a monster, or whatever!". Zoro... Why couldn't that man have seen much earlier that he wasn't as heartless as he'd thought himself to be?

In the midst of his bliss, he'd not taken notice of the time and was late to arrive to the Baratie to start preparations. And so received a good old beating from his old man, resulting in a broken wine glass and a couple of startled early-morning diners.

He smiled to himself as he skimmed past the tables, collecting empty plates here and there. Today... hopefully today would be a good day. Pulling open the kitchen doors, he screamed in "WHO THE FUCK'S MAKING THE TEA? HURRY UP!", before gliding away to place a few orders.

A vibration from his pocket stopped him as he made his way back to the kitchen to change from waiting to cooking. Frowning, he pulled the ringing phone from his pocket as it juddered about frantically. He hated being called in the midst of working - and had made it perfectly clear among his friends. Luffy, in particular, liked to call him during working hours to demand a piece of steak. Sanji swore he would slap a live cow on Luffy's plate for him to eat if he so much as called more than twice a week during his work. Reading the contact name on his phone, he immediately stood up straighter, grinning stupidly from ear to ear. He answered.

"Nami-SWANNN~!" He sang. "Good morning, my lovely!" Getting over the stunning redhead was difficult, yes. But he'd moved on now, although it felt strange even saying to himself that he loved a _man. _He wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to it. But Zoro wasn't just any man, though. And he loved him for that.

"Sanji? Sanji, Robin just called me," Her voice blasted through the speakers. Sanji flinched at the volume, yet pressed his phone closer to his ear. Nami - there was a desperate tone to her voice that he couldn't ignore. "She... She called and said... Sanji this is really bad!"

"It's OK, Nami-swan, calm down. What is it?" He asked worriedly. Robin called...? Bad? He felt his heart thump. Zoro was with Robin. What could've...?

"It's _not_ OK! Zoro! Zoro broke out of Robin's house during training!"

Nami's voice echoed through his ears.

He felt himself go cold. Broke... out?

"He was practicing with his swords, and as soon as Robin turned around, he'd cut a wall in to rubble to stop her from chasing after him! Robin - she was trapped behind the wall and could only watch as he broke out her garden, and had to call Ace to help her out!"

Why was the room suddenly so chilly? His head was throbbing. He could no longer hear the people around him. Zoro; he was all Sanji could think of now. Zoro. Zoro. Why?

"Keep an eye out for him, OK? Robin doesn't have your number so I gave it to her, yeah? She made me promise not to tell anyone else but Luffy overheard... Oh Sanji, what happened to Zoro?! Sanji? Sanji...?"

"Y-Yeah... I hear you..." He mumbled.

Fuck. He really needed a smoke right now.

"Sanji... are you alright?" Nami's voice softened.

"I... think...?" The blonde's mind was starting to numb over. He wasn't alright. He was far from that. Far from any feeling like of that. With shaky steps, he brought himself to the door leading to the back of the Baratie, where a small porch stood overlooking the sea.

"We have to find him, Sanji! Robin's really aggravated... Take care, OK? Call if you find anything!" A crackle. The sounds of tedious beeps followed. With each high-pitched sound that were like droplets of insanity's water, Sani felt his heart pummel deeper and deeper. Deeper in to the depths of dementia.

He tried to grab the door handle of the back door. His hand missed. The door didn't seem to stay still - but rather it was him who was wavering; unbalanced. He tried to hold the door handle again, and this time gripped it tight. The winter-frozen surface felt almost warm under his cold skin.

Stepping out in to the open, he looked out at the sea. The Baratie was placed right on the edge of the waterfront. The deep blue lunged and rolled darkly under the pale grey sky. How foreboding. A cloud of dark smoke twirled like tops, twisting as it rose to join the monotone skies as Sanji lit himself a cigarette, breathing in the nicotine, exhaling the smoulder.

Sick. That's how he felt.

He took another puff, blowing out the smoke slowly in a steady stream. He felt his mouth and throat warm, him mind slowly unravel... but why wasn't the rest of him responding? His heart seemed to have died within him, somehow leaving him alive, suffering.

Zoro... Why would you do that? There was no reason for him to run, was there? With them, Zoro would be safe. Leaving meant he would be caught by that mob. Even if he wasn't found, he wouldn't be able to live on his own, having been in the hospital ever since he'd arrived. He would be hurt. What would he do?

Why would he leave? Why, why, why? Was it because of him? Did he not love him back? Yet he was so sure... No! It couldn't be because he didn't like him. Zoro wasn't stupid. He wouldn't leave because of something so petty. He'd ignore him. But it hurt, that Zoro would leave him, right after that kiss. Didn't it mean anything to him? Didn't _he _mean a lot to him too? He leaned against the wall of the Baratie's exterior, weighted by worry, fear, anger... sadness...

His eyes prickled agonisingly. Blinking rapidly, he bit his lip. All that, about lying, about trust that they'd argued about. Was it... that Zoro had found out about the mob being in their city? God, please let it not be... He regretted it so much. That he couldn't tell Zoro anything, his own warped way of protecting him. It was the green haired man's own past, and yet they wouldn't tell him. Sanji... he felt he was just being a meddling bother, in the end. Zoro deserved to know. Zoro had the choice of whether he should leave or not.

Still, he was selfish. He wanted Zoro to be by his side. He wanted to know if he was doing well. He wanted to give everything to Zoro, to feel his presence. For all Sanji knew, he only had one objective; to protect Zoro. Standing, he dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his foot. He clutched his head in his hands as he felt another wave of feeling that once again pricked his eyes. Zoro... I'll find you.

Come back, Zoro.

Come back to me.

* * *

In a huff, Zeff slammed the wooden spoon on the table top. "YOU CAN'T EVEN FRY AN EGG PROPERLY AND YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF A CHEF OF THIS RESTAURANT?!" He bellowed at the quivering chef that seemed to shrink by the second in front of him. "You shouldn't even set a FOOT in my restaurant. Remake this, you shit head!" He swung his synthetic leg angrily at the chef, who yelped and made a run for it. "Useless bugger..." he grumbled to himself, turning back to his pot.

Soft steps made their way towards him. His eyes swivelled towards the source as he turned. His eyes - they were tired from day after day of laborious work, old and wrinkled at the corners like the crevices of dry desert land. There was a sharpness in his dark irises that said all _but _aged and worn; rather, they expressed an abundance of energy and power. A fighter he was, and would always be, until he was lain in his deathbed.

Sanji stood there, his same placid expression he wore almost all the time now touched with a shade of sadness. "Shitty old man," The blonde chef said quietly. Odd. Zeff could see there was something bothering his adoptive son, but he chose to ignore it - for the boy's pride. "Shitty eggplant, what do you want?" he grunted as he turned back, stirring his cooking. Tomato brisket... nice and warm for a good morning's meal on a autumn-winter's day.

"I..." Sanji took a step closer. "Need to go. Let me off early."

"You've got customers to serve. You can leave when you're supposed to." He snorted.

"No, old geezer, this is serious. Someone's gone missing. I need to find them."

"Get your comrades to do that for you."

"I need to go."

"You think I'd let you go early after you've been vanishing for months?" Zeff suddenly shouted, startling the cooks around them. The surrounding people edged away, yet kept their eyes stuck on the two top chefs. They were just animals, weary of their alpha kings, hungry for a vicious, bloody fight over anything. "Arriving late, sneaking off early! You've been causing so much trouble recently! Does your work hold no value to you anymore?!"

"This... this is consequential, you old geezer! There's been some critical things going on that I can't avoid! You think I do this out of fun?! Just this once; can't you let this one time be an exception?!" Sanji argued back. The young man could feel irritation snapping at the back of his neck. He couldn't wait. He needed to find Zoro. But yet this old git, this tough old man he loved more than he'd ever love his real father...

It was true though. He'd been sneaking out early to get to the Thousand Sunny before he was expected, so to find Zoro. And before that, he'd been late to get to the Baratie from staying to talk to the patient. Time just seemed to fly by when he was with the blind man. Was it a curse? Fate mocking them, giving the two less and less time together before they had to part?

Zeff scoffed, turning down the heat of the stove before whipping around, scowling. "Changing shifts too! What do you think you are? The world does not revolve around you and your needs. I gave you that chance, because you said it was for your _safety. _I highly doubt all your tardiness was from _safety._" He spat.

The old chef shot a foot out, kicking Sanji - hard - in the stomach. Sanji's body flew back and hit a worktop, but he landed back on both feet, keeled over coughing. His eyes wide in shock, he looked up, panting. "You're just a boy." Zeff hissed.

"It WAS!" Sanji yelled, clenching his fists to his stomach in pain. "It WAS for my safety! Maybe not all that of being late. But that's not the point right now! There's someone missing, someone who is danger. I can't let anything happen to them!"

"Danger! _So what_ about them?! What about _you? _What about your dreams and All Blue? Are you really going to push all those years of work aside to find someone who you've known not as long as your own goals?!"

Silence, but the sound of the stoves howling in the background, ignored.

"You don't know what you're doing." Said Zeff dryly.

The blonde bit his lip, lowering his head, his back and stomach in a burning pain from the kick. The shitty geezer was right, in a sense. Knowing the perils that awaited Zoro and himself if he tried to find the blind man... If he were to die, he'd never find his All Blue. Sacrifices made and time used ultimately for nothing. And what if he did survive? The time he could've used for practicing, for perfecting his skills, were stolen with no regret by the moments he had spent with Zoro. He was falling behind. But he knew what he was doing now.

Dishevelled hair sliding away as he raised his head, he focused his eyes on his adoptive father. I'll miss you, old man, he thought to himself. Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for saving me.

But he'd realised it - that maybe, there was a life that needed to continue... of more importance than his own. "This person is important to me." He said, almost inaudibly, yet somehow clearer than the clarity of his watchful, blue eyes.

He straightened out, and turned away. How many stabs of goodbye would he have to say, for this self sacrifice he may just make? How many people would cry for him? Was it truly worth it? As if he had barely a smear of energy left in his body, he headed to the kitchen door, the lower chefs parting to make a way for him. Stopped, as he heard Zeff's gruff, threatening voice.

"So this person is more important than everything you've worked for in life?"

Sanji closed his eyes, but didn't stop.

"Yes."

* * *

His feet pounded on the flat cobblestones of the port, his stomach throbbing, feelingless. Would Zoro be here, where he'd first met Robin? Glancing around, his heartbeat heavy as dumbbells being knocked against him again and again. Not a single green haired man in sight. Even if he had been here before he, Sanji, had arrived... he was long gone. Zoro wouldn't sit and wait on the sidelines for someone to find him. That wasn't him. Nor would he go back to Shimotsuki - the blind man knew first hand what sort of living hell it was. His Zoro would battle, even when his last breath had been sucked from him.

The cosy looking ferry pier swam in to his vision. Concrete building painted a glossy off-white, the side facing the sea mottled green and brown from the algae and seaweed splashed against the surface over the years during high tide. It was where one could purchase tickets to board various ferries to get to different regions or such. As the only convenient way of getting from one place to another, their little water-front city was too secluded to travel anywhere in any other way. Their city surrounded by a dense forest, the sound of birds calling, Sanji understood the importance of the sea to them - not only as a vital life source and for shipping, but also the single way people from around the world could get to the Baratie. They would usually arrive in their own boats, the simplicity and homeliness of their city's ferry not being enough for them.

The only way in and out of their city, if not through the trees...

A step forwards after another, Sanji found himself racing to the pier. The flooring was slick, unstable, it's futile attempts to slow the worried chef at no avail. Grey was the sky as day slipped like sand through the fingers of time. Clouds trembled, anticipating. Maybe a storm was coming. The blonde thrust the door aside, looking hopefully to the left, right.

One man sat on the side, alone, staring out the window at the sea curling it's toes around each surface it could touch. His hair was silvered, thinning, his expression that of mourning a lost one. The thin light shone across his eyes; eyes that were maybe once a dreamer's emerald, now grey and dull, glassy like crystals under the dim illumination.

On the other side of the room was a wide counter selling tickets, a bored looking young lad sitting at it, legs sprawled out to a side as he scratched his head and put down his book. "Uh, may I help you?" The youth asked disdainfully, looked irritated that he had to serve someone.

Sanji looked down at the man in disgust. What lack of manners - he felt like teaching the man a few lessons or so. Alas, he did not have the time to draw out on it for too long. "Well _excuse me,_" He said primly. "But would you have happened to notice a green haired man in here?"

"No...?" replied the man, raising a brow.

"Thank you." Sanji responded coldly, heart seeming to know only how to fall further and further. He turned sharply and headed for the door, holding back the will to just race there and kick the door down in a single cut, knowing it was impolite to run indoors.

"I saw." The chef heard a frail voice say gently from behind him. He looked back in surprise. Despite how the man continued to stare out at the sea, Sanji knew it was him. "He headed... to the east, staying in the casted shadows. It was a while ago."

The blonde's lips parted a slight as he felt a lump well in his throat, stopping air from getting in or out. The edges of his eyes seemed to burn. "T-Thank you. So much." He choked out, biting his lip. And he meant it, so sincerely, a thousand, million times. Opening the door, a meek drizzle was starting to scatter around him. He stepped out, and glanced over his shoulder one last time.

Lonely grey eyes of the man met his. "Hurry." The doleful eyes seemed to call. "Chase after him.". Sanji nodded gratefully, his soft hair bobbing, and ran to the east.

What was in the east that Zoro would vanish to? Or was he blindly running, following any route that he hoped would take him away? His shoes hit the ground sharply, kicking up the growing puddles of rainwater. Please let Zoro still be there. It had been a few hours ago since Nami had called. What were the chances? Why did Zoro have to be so far from him, falling, falling from his grasp?

Everywhere he looked, the streets were almost bare, people scarce, with the sounds of children mumbling as they huddled under the shelter of a shop umbrella. Not a flash of a mossy green head anywhere in sight. On and on he went, past the library. The library... The blonde skidded to a halt. This was where he'd borrowed the braille version of All Blue for Zoro. Those moments, like a fairytale, like a once upon a time... He clenched his fists, and shook his head in frustration. Focus! Now was not the time to dream. Now was the time to go head to head with reality. He took a step forward.

Wait. Beyond the library. A stretch of field, used for holding quiet little fairs, that was connected to the dense forest of thickly trunked trees that surrounded their city. Possibly, hopefully, maybe... Zoro could've wandered there?

Feet barely touching the ground, Sanji dashed around the large building, along the wide path. The scenes around him changed as if in a monochrome kaleidoscope; houses and buildings melting in to the lustreless skies as trees took their place, and even the fixed, hard ground turned in to grass, crunching under his shoes, the damp smell of rain trailing down the spines of each blade.

The field was empty. It wasn't the season for any fairs - not until the new year's. He shivered, the rain pattering on his face, down his shirt. He continued on, through the trees. They towered over him, enveloping him in their obscurity. Who knew where he'd end up? Sharp leaves rustled and scraped him, gnarly branches clawing at his clothes as he passed. Who knew what lay on the other side of the direction he was heading in? He'd run for all eternity if he must, to find Zoro. The blind man's deviously beautiful grin etched into his memory was his motivation, his treasure he clung tightly to. Just a bit farther, he thought to himself. A bit longer, and then he'd... he would...

He slowed as light shone through the trees in front of him. An opening? Was it really possible that he'd reached the other side so quickly? Left hand grabbing a branch above to steady himself, he delicately moved through the vegetation. He ducked his head, peering through the drooping leaves dashed in browning vermilions. It was just a clearing.

Making his way towards it, he sighed heavily. The trees seemed to burn with an antique flame that could not be felt, but only seen, speckled in reds and golds in their yellowed leaves, dry at the edges. Surrounding him. Pressing his face in to his palms, he could only listen, hope.

The unmistakeable swing and strike of a blade some distance away sounded in his ears. His head perked up. Who would be swinging about knives somewhere so far out here? It was too fast and sharp to be an axe. Didn't Zoro use swords...? Quietly, anxiously, he started towards where he had heard the sounds. And suddenly, no more than a hundred meters away, a tree crashed to the ground.

Instinctively, he ducked. As he did, what crossed his lowered line of vision made his heart stop.

Through the gaps, through the thickets, deeper yet in the forest - the silhouette of a broad, vast man stood, proud, a familiar coat of darkness shrouding him. His face could not be seen; his back was facing the stunned Sanji, the young chef's breaths hitched. He could practically see it radiating around the man in a roar of pitch black smoke - the malice, the menace, the evil will.

Hairs on the back of the blonde's neck and over his body rose. Fear. He could sense it. It stumbled across his skin, jabbing his sides, shaking his shoulders. Trees around the man were felled, sliced clean across a height aligned to that of the man's neck.

It was _him._

But what froze him to his core wasn't the presence of the detestable man far ahead of him. It was the figure in front of the man_, _slouched low, drawn swords humming with hatred, concentration, a gash of scarlet across the golden skin of his toned arm.

"Zoro." Sanji whispered.


	16. Chapter 16

**Oh my god I am a horrible person I'm so so so sorry that this update took so long!**

**I just finished my exams, and so I quickly whipped up this chapter... I'm sorry it's so horribly written D:**

**Thank you very very much for sticking around, and also a great big thank you to the new viewers and follows and favourites. I'll love you guys forever for putting up with my horribly infrequent updates and bad chapters xS Muah! I hope you enjoy this new chapter, even though it's not my best... /shrivels**

* * *

His voice. He could hear him, Sanji; that guiding voice, melting in his ear. Soft, a distant melody, through the patter of the rain's drizzle.

Whispering his name.

He twitched, and sidestepped hastily at the 'click' of a flintlock. The hiss of a bullet ripped through air beside his ear, drilling into the one of the trees behind with a _crack_, sharp and cruel as thunder. It was a heads-up warning bullet, not intending to harm him. Too obvious to be aiming for a proper shot. At least, for the person who now held the flintlock - this _devil _was a professional, alright. He snapped his attention back to the man before him, clutching the girth of the _tsuka _- the hilts of his _katana_ - that he held in each hand, disoriented. The cut in his left arm from barely dodging a bullet... it was stinging angrily, as the rainwater seeped through the tear in his skin. It must have cut a few millimetres in to his arm for it to throb in it's blunt, aching beats. After all, he was Zoro: the child assassin.

"Dozing off now, _boy?_" The deep, crackling voice seemed to smirk mockingly. Oh, how he wanted to kill this man right now... slice through his hideous body, stab him until he couldn't hear that thick voice of his that could make your throat feel sticky and hoarse just from the sound; decapitate him for all the people to see what horrors grace the world they live in. But right now... right now...

Sanji was there. He could just pick it up, that gentle _princess _voice. He could never mistake it for another. And if he could _just_ hear him... then this ex-"boss" he was with could not.

'What are you doing here?!' Zoro wanted to cry out. 'I left for a reason, don't come after me!' God forbid, if Sanji could see who he was with, if he could even see him, however far he must be... around a hundred plus metres away, he presumed... What would Sanji do? Run to him? Call his name? Maybe if he weren't in such a situation, he'd like that to happen...

A crunch of the grass ahead being crushed under a large weight resonated in his ear, drawing Zoro from his thoughts. The steps were heavy as _he_ walked around him: a predator circling it's prey. Thirsty for blood. Hungry. "What will it be then, hm?" A cackle of laughter. Zoro snarled as he sensed the man walk up close, his skin prickling in anger. "You don't have much of a choice!"

The green haired swordsman remained silent, the sounds of their breaths hefty through grit teeth. Rain plastered his hair to the sides of his head, sliding down the scabbard of his still-sheathed, precious white sword.

Well, what _could _he do anyways? He couldn't fight all out here, not in such a place with Sanji near them. Not in such a place that would catch people's attention, despite how deep they now were in the forest. He knew the extent of his own power - and had once seen what this man before him could do, back when he still had eyes. How ruthless. How _insane. _He, Zoro, would be risking everyone's life if he fought here. Especially that idiot cook he cared so much for.

And if he battled, Sanji surely would interfere, or even call Robin. Call for help. No one needed to know about this, for their own safety. His heart clenched in aggravation.

It was his business to deal with.

A rustling, like the ringing of air. Hundred meters, in the direction of Sanji's voice, was where it came from. Shit... Sanji, don't come any closer...!

... How far he had fallen, Zoro realised now. From a heartless murderer to _this_... even thinking about the consequences that would affect people's lives. Since... since that chef came into his poisoned life, he lost the ability to simply kill without a heartbeat's thought. He was cured, bit by bit, but at this moment what he'd lost was what he needed most.

"I'll go." He heard himself say, the urgency that willed to bubble out suppressed. "Let's go." As the man had said... he didn't have much of a choice. Not with Sanji; not really, at least.

An explosive, triumphant laugh. "_Now _you have some sense." _His _voice boomed. "Let's go... _home_, shall we?"

The sound of heavy footsteps and a cold, cold chuckling in front of him turned and walked, _thankfully, oh God, thankfully _in the opposite direction of which Sanji was. Zoro hurried after the man, desperate to leave quickly. Whatever the fuck was watching over him and Sanji right now...

Maybe finally they were doing something right for him. For them.

* * *

The two figures melted in to the distance, through the trees. Only the green haired swordsman paused, a breath, and turned his head a little, as if looking to see if Sanji was there with the eyes of a dream - but quickly turned his attention back to the man in the black coat, led away in deathly, shivering silence.

Muffled thumps from his own heart filled his head, throbbing at his ears. Zoro. Gone. Slipped the grasp that he should've held to tighter. If only he wasn't afraid. If only he had the power to diminish the pain. To get rid of that source of Zoro's hurt in one fell swoop, instead of quivering in the background, just waiting for someone to tell him what to do.

If he had the guts to leave the Baratie... why couldn't he go to Zoro just then?

He clutched the flimsy wet fabric of his shirt at the stomach and bit the skin of his bottom lip. His vision shook as he strained his eyes desperately, hoping to see a last glimpse through the thickets before they were truly gone. "Go! Find him!" his chest hammered. "Stay." Rationalised his mind.

Why was he so weak? The moist fabric crumpled feebly under the grasp of his tightening hands. A stuttering exhalation. He raised his head, and with a breath... simply murmured "Zoro..."

Standing, his legs shook unstably. What was with this sensation? He knew basic fear - where his hairs stood on end, his skin cold despite the depth of the pounding in his chest. What he currently felt was almost the same; just strengthen it tenfold with full body trembling added to the mixture.

Fear was no reason to stop him from going to Zoro though. It never should be. He had found the blind man quickly and the only explanation he had for it... was fate. As sickly sweet and cliché it sounded, he had found Zoro because they were connected somehow. He was pulled to Zoro. As if they were tied by unbreakable strings.

Ah, yes. The red thread of fate. That's what it must be.

They weren't only for those that were in a relationship, where one was female and one male... right?

Sanji breathed in deeply, his eyebrows furrowed, and exhaled in one go, expelling doubts. With a swift kick, he cut through the barrage of leaves before him, and ran through to where Zoro and that man stood before - through the knife branches and broken glass foliage that scratched and swiped at his pale, rain-soaked skin.

Scattered across the spot were a few trees - felled, piled over one another, with painful gashes in their dead bodies. Bullet holes were nestled into the soft ground, sheltered by the blades of grass, one watered with drizzles of... blood. Zoro's blood, slowly being washed away in the pitter-pattering droplets of rainfall, as if being cleansed. The chef felt a jolt snap through his body as he watched the crimson being weakened, thinned across the green and grey. '_This is what will happen to Zoro_',he couldn't help but think. That strong swordsman would soon be no more, if he didn't do something. But what _could _he do?

As if the blood somehow had a life connection to the blind man, Sanji falteringly kneeled and covered the fading colour with his hands, protecting it. Yet the rain had already done its' work, leaving only a faint swirl of life on the cold soil.

* * *

"So you saw Zoro... with that man..." Robin frowned, closing her eyes as she thought. Her dark lashes shone in the flaring orange of the setting sun, casting feathered shadows across her smooth cheeks. "Then surely Zoro must've been of high ranking and strength when he was still with them."

"H-How so?" Sanji inquired, chewing anxiously at his lip. In the end, he'd returned to the hospital, and decided to tell Robin and Ace - despite how he somehow... _knew _Zoro wouldn't have liked it. The blind man was one to keep things to himself, wary and stubborn, hating it when people got in his way. He felt like he'd betrayed the blind man with his actions; but he was weak, he didn't know what to do...

The psychologist stood by the window, leaning gently against her bookshelves, with Ace seemingly turned to stone sitting on her desk. Sanji glanced at his friend in worry. Ace had his sturdy arms folded tight, his eyes dark, glaring at a spot on the floor. Watching as the man flexed his jaws, the blonde could feel only coldness wrap itself around him like a dry, flaking hand.

"For the big man to have to come out and fetch our Zoro himself, our patient obviously must've been extremely powerful. At least, powerful enough to be able to beat the other henchmen to a pulp but not enough to hurt _him._" answered Ace in a low voice.

"Yes, Zoro is a talented swordsman," Robin said in response to Sanji's look of surprise. "One of the best, if I may say so. No wonder he went so far to escape with his swords. I'm sure they have deep meaning to him as well."

Sanji felt a twinge of pride amidst the churning fear. He wanted so desperately to know how Zoro was, where he was, whether he's hurting. But just hearing of how amazing this man he... he loves... it made him proud, as if he were the one being praised. Now that he thought about it, he never actually told Zoro how he felt, did he?

By the window, Robin studied the chef in his little daze with her bright eyes, her head tilted to the left a slight. "Sanji, you mentioned that _he _said they were going home," She spoke suddenly, interrupting the man's musing. "_He _might've meant either Zoro's old village - Shimotsuki village - or an old base that Zoro would've known about, and stayed at for some time."

"If my undercover is in the right place, the mob he's currently infiltrated was the one who turned Shimotsuki in to an oil farm - which, just so you know, is actually just a few hour's boat ride from here." Ace clucked his tongue, rolling his shoulders back. "They also used it as a base for a while. Now, he's told me that they've been rather active around this area. They must have some connection to 'the Boss', seeing he is here too - because there's a correlation with the fact that he was the one who was in the photo and that the mob invaded afterwards, and now both are here. And clearly, just from the name _that man _is known by - 'Boss' - he doesn't work alone.

"Let's say he has his own... group, and the mob is of another. He wouldn't go kill off an entire village and allow this other mob to take all that oil, would he? Oil is expensive. This world practically runs on it. There is no reason for him to willingly hand over something worth so much for _anything_. Thus, we can come to a somewhat shaky conclusion that he is the 'Boss' of the mob. Still, we don't have evidence.

"Since the mob claimed the land soon after the massacre, we can safely assume they used it as their base in the early days that they and the 'Boss' had Zoro on his leash, as he took Zoro the day the massacre happened." He nodded slowly. "The now-oil farm is still under their control. We can't even kick them out because we don't have solid proof that they were the ones who were behind the massacre."

"Then we should go to the village!" Sanji grabbed Ace's shoulder. The raven-haired man jumped in shock. "It was once Zoro's home, and also their base. You know where the village is, don't you? We can just bust in, grab Zoro, and run! We could always deal with the rest later."

Ace shook his head, sighing in exasperation. "Sanji, do you really think we can pull that off? Against this group? We can't even 'deal with the rest' just yet. Like I said; no proof, no go."

The grip on the man's shoulder tightened, slim fingers painfully digging into his trapezius. He looked up, and was met with the anguished, battle-ready face of his best friend: glassy blue eyes quivering, his usual smooth golden hair tousled and barely hiding the other side of his face. A burning red bead of blood slid from the crack in the man's lower lip where he'd been biting at since he'd arrived. "Please, Ace," Sanji said through clenched teeth. "Once we get in... if Zoro's there, then what more evidence will we need? If we bring him back, and he can be our witness. Though he won't like it. He prefers dealing with things through fighting and arguing. Or sulking."

"I really wish we could do that, but it's not as simple as that." Ace frowned, glaring at the chef.

"It _is _as simple as that! When Zoro's back with us, we can sort out the proof and whatever the fuck needs to be done and return with full force!"

"Do not be so brash, Sanji," Robin's gentle voice seemed to soften the cutting edges of the desperation within the chef. He slowly let go of his friend, and brought his hand to his mouth to wipe away the blood, his head down in shame. "We all want to help Zoro, we truly do. We're not deliberately keeping you from him. You have to understand that procedures and time may get in the way, and simple correlations cannot be trusted - and even Zoro's evidence may not be enough. Even then will we have the mob and the 'Boss' on our tails when they find the swordsman missing. These people are merciless, and not at all weak. We cannot underestimate them at a time like this."

"For now, we should gather some people we can trust, and of course, are available. We're short on the attack force, so preferably people who can... protect themselves. We need to plan on how to gather the evidence, how to find and separate Zoro from the others if he's even there, how to get in and around..." The sound of Ace's talking seemed to blur in to the background.

Sanji could only press the palms of his hands to his eyes and hold back the frustration. How _badly_ he wanted to find Zoro. Not having the man with him - it hurt: painful as being burned alive, slowly reduced to ash. He had no right to complain about this though. He knew Zoro surely must hurt even more. All that suffering from before must be flooding back into him, whipping him into submission, stabbing him until he could no longer stand on his own two feet. All he wanted now was to protect Zoro. Yet there were too many gaps in his plans to do anything.

It was as if there was a piece of him missing.

All he'd been to Zoro was a nuisance. It was time he became useful. It was time he stopped being worthless, only able to bicker and play the guitar for the blind man. It was time to prove that the moments and happiness and... kiss they shared wasn't out of pity. "I swear," He whispered. "I will free him, even if I have to do it myself.".

* * *

With watchful eyes, Sanji examined their group that they had somehow assembled within an hour. A buff man wearing only a tiny pair of shorts and Hawaiian shirt stood flexing his (strangely) cube-shaped muscles as Chopper clapped his petite hands in awe. The young doctor seemed to shrink significantly in size in comparison to the other, his eyes widening at the impressive sight. Robin had requested help from the two, claiming that the muscle-bound man, Franky, had a large stash of weapons and was also an engineer.

Even the long nosed Usopp stared at Franky in admiration from a corner of the crowded office. Having been dragged in by Chopper and Sanji despite being known for his cowardice, he was in a grouch and brought Luffy to support him - who in turn brought Nami, because he just "wanted to". This caused Ace to get in to a huff, as he didn't want his baby brother involved, and Sanji to retreat deeper into his hole of depression because he didn't want the _women _to get hurt. He knew his lying friend Usopp could _just _manage to take care of himself; being a keen engineer like Franky and with a sniper's accuracy with his treasured slingshot would have them at an advantage in far-range attacks. And when Luffy got serious, he was a monster. However, what were Robin and Nami capable of...?

For some strange reason, Ace had chosen to call out the musician from the Rumbar bar. The tall man, Brooke, poised with a cane in his pale glory as his afro was squashed slightly by the ceiling, simply smiled as he reached out to poke Luffy as Sanji stared rather rudely.

"Don't judge them just by what they look like!" Sanji aggressively thought as he found himself wondering who would be first to die. "Remember what Robin and Ace said..."

_ "I shall bring my friend Franky, and our little Chopper." Robin nodded, elegant swoops of her glossy hair sliding across her slender shoulders. "Franky doesn't have muscles just for show. He also has weaponry. Chopper learns kungfu, and I'm sure we will need medical aid in case... anything happens."_

_ "Are you sure about Chopper? He's not even old enough to work in this hospital!" Ace countered. It would be unethical to bring in such a young boy to fight alongside them, especially against these people..._

_ "I am sure. He is not weak." With a little smile that threatened 'don't-even-try-to-object-my-choices', the psychologist glared down the policeman until he hurriedly looked away and coughed, "Of course, of course. Uh, I'll bring Brooke, y'know, from the bar? He can fight pretty well with swords too. Well, just one sword, not like Zoro, but he's alright. Ah, and please keep quiet about this - our undercover's name is Law. If you come across him, he's an ally."_

_ The blonde chef looked up at them. The clock ticked, counting the seconds of his worry - it was now 5:37 PM. Outside the window, the sunset was still afire in hazy ignited colours, matching the autumn leaves that swayed in harmony, flecks of the passed rain yet dripping from the ochre fronds, tranquil. _

_ "I'll bring Usopp," He murmured. "He's got good aim."_

Now, Sanji looked at their group, and couldn't help but think: "If Zoro was here... we'd be so powerful...". Never before had he wanted to find someone so badly. Well, he'd never felt such strong rushes of emotions for a person - let alone a man - before. He'd sworn he'd protect Zoro, and if he lost him, if he let those people take the blind man away, take his _freedom_... Then he'd have failed. That's right; he didn't refer to Zoro as _his _Zoro. Neither _our _or _their _Zoro. No, the swordsman was a human, a person, even if he called him 'marimo' and all sorts of other insults.

Then he realised it. Zoro had never had freedom. Not even as a young boy: he was tormented and teased by the others of his village, only having one friend and his family. He had to be kept hidden away from the mocking voices and claws. It was a wonder that the man didn't still hate him for calling him marimo... Perhaps he did. Perhaps this man he loved actually still hated him, for disrupting his life and giving him additional things to have to dwell on.

And yet here he was, relentlessly being selfish, wanting to find Zoro just so they could be _together_. Ah, he was the worst of the worst. He was scum. Almost at once, his dreams seemed to shatter, the splinters and shards surging out to spear him through the chest, again and again this guilt and shame-

Why did he always have to be like this? Like the way he pestered Zoro to tell him about his past. And now he was being troublesome for these people who were brought along. They had their own lives to live, their own work to do... He had to change. If he wanted to protect Zoro, he needed to remove the source of the pain. That being; the mob... and himself.

"Hey, Sanji, aren't you listening?"

Usopp's tanned finger tapped the blonde on his head. Abruptly straightening his back, he noticed everyone in the room staring at him. Concerned. Some of them barely even knew him, and yet they were concerned.

An auburn haired head made it's way through the little crowd towards. Nami. Hah, the girl he once adored just had to be there, didn't she...

"Sanji, we all know Zoro, you know." The girl set her hands on her wide hips haughtily. "So don't think we're helping just because we were asked to! Moreover, don't you dare take on everything by yourself."

"She's right! We're all here for you _and _Zoro!" Luffy grinned. "We want to help!"

The chef's tired gaze wandered over the faces of his... allies, illuminated by the brilliant light of the room. Eight pairs of eyes; all different, all encouraging. All seeming to say "We can do it" and "Don't worry". He felt a slight weight seem to slide off his back, slick, but how could he not worry? As strong as Zoro was... It wasn't that he didn't trust him, that he didn't trust these friends...

A gentle cough requested their attention. In unison, they turned to Ace - already, they were connected. One hand held his phone, and the other shoved awkwardly into a pocket, he licked his lip with a quick dart of his tongue. "I'm not convinced I should tell Smokey- uh, I mean my boss- about this or not." The raven haired man raised an eyebrow at the mobile he held, frowning. "Because I know whatever I say will be rejected and stopped. That old man would just try to figure out a plan for himself that would probably take a million years to commence."

"Is that why you didn't inform Kaku and Kalifa?" Chopper questioned, scratching his neck thoughtfully.

"Yes. I sent them to watch over a different part of the hospital." Robin nodded. "Of course, they are suspicious, but we must hope they do not mention anything."

Once again, Sanji slipped into his own world, disregarding his comrades and their discussion. Subconsciously, the chef felt remorse for not being able to focus, especially since they were talking about how to rescue Zoro. Being the one most urgent about finding him, it was rather shameful.

He glanced down at his palms. Whiter than usual, they were cold, even the little scars along his fingers from his childhood: where he'd over-enthusiastically practiced with the knives, a little burn mark on the side of his hand just below his left pinky finger. Remember; the feeling of the warm skin of Zoro's cheek under his thumb, from those times where he'd let him try to do the same facial recognition as him. The delicate grooves and bumps of the scar over his left eye: yet another untold story. The buzzing heat when they fought one another, triggering the adrenaline.

'Boss' now had that person that gave him so much happiness, so many strange new feelings. What would the man do to Zoro? Having to hunt down the swordsman himself; Zoro must be important to them. It must be because he was with them for so long. Because he knew too much about them.

Then they needed to dispose of him...

Or worse, torture him as a punishment for leaving. Until Zoro wanted to die, but on and on would they torture him, make him wish he never existed...

From within, Sanji felt himself start to shake. His open hands before him trembled, reverberating up his arms and down his spine. No wonder the blind man wanted to hide the truth. Such things were too dark to speak of.

Shallow breaths escaped his throat. He'd realised it. As promised, he would protect, shelter Zoro... by bringing _that man _to justice. He would kill him if he needed to. He would have every last one of them put in jail. He would clear Zoro's name, because he was innocent, despite every last person he was forced to assassinate.

And he would let Zoro go.

Because he was the final thing holding the swordsman back.

Freedom. It was to be returned.

Quietly, he mumbled "I need... a break.", so softly it was as though he was speaking to himself. Without waiting for an answer, the blonde slipped out the door of the office.

* * *

Already was it a Stygian gloom outside, the winding path leading away from the hospital irradiated by the steady glow of the lamps. It was just barely past 7:30PM, and yet the sky was pitch black, looming, dreading. Not even a single crystalline star to brighten the inky bloom of the heavens. Winter was approaching; the days were short, the cotton nights pulled longer and thinner. Hefty footsteps - quick, strong - echoed through the darkness, as Sanji raced through the stillness that held it's breath, waiting to see what he'd do.

Autumn chill bit his skin. Shivering, he ran faster. He had no map of the village, and no means of getting there. So why was he running? Why did he have to go, there and then, without waiting for the others, without thinking of the consequences? Was this the work of love? Or was he just still a fickle, naïve boy? He wasn't going to survive this. But he would do everything he could to make sure Zoro did. With each soaring step, Sanji used only the thought of giving the blind man the freedom he deserved to push himself on.

If he could leave tonight, then he surely should be able to get to the village in the midst of the night, which allowed easier movement; as he recalled his best friend saying in reference to Shimotsuki village: "_... which, just so you know, is actually just a few hour's boat ride from here_.". However, he had no idea which direction it was in, and he highly doubted there would be any boat and sailor that would willingly take him there. Nonetheless, it was worth checking the ferry pier.

Unprepared for anything, and yet running head-on into the enemy's territory. Wasn't this more like a death wish, than a rescue mission?

A single bulb protruding from the overhead of the wooden canopy dimly lit the entrance to the pier, stark and feeble. "It needs to be replaced soon..." The blonde hastily thought to himself as he entered.

The old man that was there earlier was gone. As was the disagreeable youth, with a large middle aged woman with eccentric, lime-green hair in replacement. Along a wall were all the destinations the boats of their city would lead to, roughly etched into ancient, stained plaques with the time the next boat would depart tucked into a slot beside them. None. None read 'Shimotsuki Village'. Sanji's heart sunk. Drowning. He needed to get there, _now._

"Boy, are you heading somewhere?" The woman at the counter smiled, her red lipstick stretched upon her wrinkled lips, shrill voice grating.

His deep blue eyes met hers - and for a moment, he felt he could trust her. But what if she was one of them, the mob...? He couldn't trust anyone, now that he knew everything.

"A secret, is it? Well, you look unhappy. Your destination not on the wall?"

That much, he could answer. "Yeah..."

"You might need to make a crossover then!" A high-pitched voice from under the counter piped up.

Shocked, Sanji took a step back. What the hell?

"Hush, Chimney! You're not even meant to be here, darling." The woman hissed, leaning down to talk to whoever 'Chimney' was under the counter. "Forgive me, that was my granddaughter. But yes, a crossover. If you tell me where you're headed, I could be of help." She smiled cheerfully, her saggy cheeks rosy.

Outside, the sway and roll, tumbles of the waves crashed against the sides of the pier as Sanji hesitated, then stepped forwards, whispering the name of the village into the old woman's ear. What made him do what he did, he didn't know. Perhaps it was the presence of her granddaughter that made her seem more... trustworthy.

She sucked in her breath. "Ooo, lad, you're heading to a dark, dark place," She shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid there aren't any boats _or _crossovers that go there."

His heart pummelled to the ground. That couldn't be... that simply couldn't be... "I- I need to get there, tonight. Please, don't you know _any _way of getting there?!" With each word, Sanji voice took a higher and higher pitch, his hands slammed onto the counter. It was humiliating; he sounded as if he were begging. Like he was worthless and couldn't do anything on his own. Like a child.

With her own worn hands, the woman patted Sanji's. "Calm down, lad. Cool your head, or you won't be able to work at your full potential."

He looked down at her hands that covered his. They were comfortingly warm, veiny and rugged, in smooth grey wrinkles from age; some areas of her fingers were rubbed red, the skin hard, as though she'd been gripping something for many, many years. He looked at his own. Young, fleshy pink and white and peach, and those scars - from his youth and hard work.

"They _do _have an import boat that docks once every few months. Maybe it's here today. Their visits aren't frequent, so go and look along where the boats are." She patted his hands again, and let go, reaching down to pull out a bottle of... booze. "That's all I can help you with. Sorry! Good luck, sonny. You'll need it while you're there."

Sanji had already turned to leave as soon as she'd lifted her hands off his. There was no time to waste. "Thank you," he called out, as he shot through the doorway, and into the night.

A small head popped up from under the counter, matching lime green hair tied in two large pigtails bobbing slightly. "Granny, why was that man in such a rush?"

The old woman, Kokoro, sighed, and took a swig from her bottle of alcohol with a grin. "I think he's looking for someone. Someone precious to him, maybe?"

* * *

Wandering along the docks, Sanji scrutinised each and every boat, whether dingy or large, searching for a hint as to where they were heading. Most had plaques similar to the ones he saw in the pier. Each boat he passed caused frustration to grow within him, screaming and crying, tearing at his heart. "Please, let the next one be the right boat..." he kept wishing. Alas, all were headed to different places.

Step by step, feeling more and more lost.

Until finally, he had reached the end. Only a small number of the boats had no indication as to their terminus. And he couldn't just loot through them.

Limp, he stared out into the horizon. The murky black of the sky was heavy, as if finally touching the sea that twisted and turned, troubled and strayed. Blowing winds haphazardly pushed the hair form his face. "Nature's mocking me, isn't it," he thought listlessly to himself. "The entire fucking world is mocking me. The one thing... the one person I'm so sure of... they won't let me be with him, they won't even let me _help _him...

"I don't want that night to be our last," He sat, his knees weak. The night was so desolate. So lonely, a day without Zoro...

The waves stirred below, colliding with the corroding wood of the docks. Salty droplets leapt on to his shoes and pants. Everything blurred, and he closed his eyes.

Could he imagine what it was like to be blind? Could he still be able to smile, to carry on without eyes, the way Zoro did? Could he endure the same agony and tribulation as Zoro? Zoro... Zoro... praying for his safety...

Harsh voices in the distance awakened him from his thoughts. He turned, squinting into the darkness, his heart thumping in surprise.

Two figures passed under a lamp.

Two figures: one with purple hair, one with long white-blonde hair, trailing out of the neck of his-

Black coat, lined with fur. The other man wore the same.

Sanji reeled back in horror. Those two- he saw them at the Baratie. They were the men Ace had warned him about.

He got on both feet, staying low, hidden. The men stopped at a fishing boat, and he held his breath.

Undisturbed, they turned, and boarded.

Each foot that touched the boardwalk caused indecision to torrent through Sanji's mind. One by one - now was the chance: sneak on... or wait for his allies to come to a decision.


End file.
